Legolas Greenleaf, MESS: You Only Live Forever
by Skitty-Kat
Summary: The sequel to Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS in Ringfinger. Our Elven secret agent prepares to take on the mysterious crime boss from the East. Complete.
1. On Her Ladyship's Secret Service

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to my previous fic "Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of Mess, in Ringfinger" and also "Kill Me Tomorrow". I would advise you to read at least the former first, as certain plot threads are picked up here. As in that fic, this is an AU where Legolas (known as Greenleaf in the style of Bond) is a secret agent for MESS, the Middle Earth Secret Service.  
  
Huge thanks to Julia for beta-ing this for me and gleefully pointing out my typos.  
  
Thanks also to everyone who read and reviewed "Kill Me Tomorrow": Empress of Alvarra (more Bond title puns coming up –just look at this chapter!), Nemo Returning (you want me to kill Red Cap...? Hmm), THECheeseTurkey (wow, thanks! [blushes]), and theinklesspen (I wasn't planning on doing more than one chapter to Kill Me Tomorrow, but after what Nemo Returning said...well, I'm thinking).  
  
Enough of my verbosity. Here it is, the one you've all been waiting for! (well, maybe) Sit back and enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 1. On Her Ladyship's Secret Service  
  
There are times in every secret agent's life when he is treated like royalty. The red carpet would be rolled out, and everything provided for. These were the times that Legolas Greenleaf cared the least for. Born a prince, he had had his fill of such treatment. The life of a royal was not for him; he preferred to avoid such.  
  
It was to this end that he now patrolled the Western borders of Lothlórien with the Marchwarden, Haldir. They passed silently among the trees, keeping their keen eyes on the area they covered. Haldir's brothers, Rumil and Orophin, were to the South, positioned near the banks of the Nimrodel. A light wind played with the trees, setting their branches dancing. The pair walked beneath them on their patrol.  
  
Greenleaf enjoyed this duty. As he was not a Lórien Elf, he was not obliged to take up the task, particularly in the light of his secret work. But still he would do it, when available. He had made good friends with Haldir and the other wardens, and friends were always useful. The feeling of being out in the woods, in the fresh air with his bow on his back was the best sensation he found when not away on a mission. It was also a useful excuse to get out of attending dinner parties or the suchlike. Tonight was a tiresome-sounding drinks party held by Lord Celeborn, in honour of a visiting dignitary: Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Greenleaf had been to enough of these to know that Celeborn would be at his most formal in a most tedious manner. The Lord was good enough company when relaxed and partially drunk, but he had something of a tendency to make mystical comments when stressed. Tonight, Greenleaf was more than happy to remain on patrol.  
  
"Quiet tonight," he commented, standing beside Haldir. The Marchwarden had stopped on the edge of a small clearing.  
  
"Indeed," he said, "we can probably sit here for a bit." He sat down on the floor by a tree.  
  
Greenleaf dropped gracefully beside him. "I swear," he said with a grin, "that you never smile." It was a popular pastime for him and others to try and get a rise out of the sometimes pompous warden. There were several bets going among the more junior wardens.  
  
Haldir turned to look at him askance. "Really?" he asked, with a faint edge to his voice. "Well, we can't all go around grinning like fools."  
  
"Better something of a fool than a complete misery," Greenleaf countered, lying back on the grass.  
  
"Well, laugh away, Master Jester," Haldir said, the side of his mouth twitching slightly, "but I shall remain taciturn."  
  
"Careful, oh strong and silent one, that was almost a smile," Greenleaf told him. "Even among friends you can-." He paused, sitting up abruptly.  
  
"What?" Haldir asked, his entire stance becoming suddenly more alert.  
  
Greenleaf cocked his head. "Yrch," he whispered, his body tensing. He pulled his bow from his back, standing as Haldir did likewise. They crept around the clearing, heading in a southerly direction after the company they could now hear. Clanking of armour and occasional grunts led them forward until they could see the creatures.  
  
"Uruk Hai," Greenleaf muttered, recognising the foul orc crossbreeds. He had seen their type before, when fighting the wizard Saruman. But Saruman was dead, so somebody else must have been breeding the creatures. Haldir touched his friend's hand to get his attention.  
  
"See their badges," he said, pointing to a red mark on the orcs' skin.  
  
"A red eye," Greenleaf breathed, realising its significance, "Sauron."  
  
Even as he said it, they heard cries from ahead and the unmistakeable whistle signifying danger. The orcs charged forward.  
  
"Rumil and Orophin," Haldir said. He and Greenleaf sped through the trees without another word. The Marchwarden's two brothers stood back to back in a circle of orcs. Both had their bows in their hands, and were shooting down as many orcs as they could, but they were grossly outnumbered. They could only shoot for so long before their arrows ran out and they were left with their swords, which required close quarter work. With only a glance at each other, Greenleaf and Haldir split up, taking different sides of the orcs. Greenleaf took the right hand flank, mindful to say unseen.  
  
He picked all his targets with care, and not an arrow was wasted. His first line of attack was to climb partway up one of the trees and to feel orcs in the centre of the battle. Looking across, he could see Haldir doing the same. Both kept moving from tree to tree, never presenting a stationary target to any orc who was intelligent enough to look up. White-fletched arrows were soon protruding from the bodies of several orcs. Between the four of them, the Elves had shot down well over half the company, but the creatures had finally noticed that several of the shots were coming from above.  
  
Greenleaf pulled back, aimed and fired another arrow, downing another creature. Another arrow was on his string almost instantly, but even as it was he felt a tug on his ankle. He looked down in time to see the face of an orc contorted into what he presumed was a grin as it yanked him from the tree branch. Twisting with the momentum, Greenleaf stabbed the orc in the throat with his arrow. He was able to land in a crouch beside its dead body, puling out his knife as more of the creatures headed for him. A quick glance assured him that the other three Elves were fine. He then focussed his attention on the orcs nearest him.  
  
Well-trained, he went straight for their weak points: armpits and neck. Ducking below a wild swing, he thrust up and slashed across, opening up two of the creatures' throats. The rest were dispatched in no short order. Orcs, though vicious and free of conscience, were not the best of killers when faced with proper fighters. They could be clumsy as their rage got the better of them. They were perfect when destroying settlements, murdering unarmed and defenceless people, or fighting in huge armies. They were made for huge numbers, and their ability for cunning was somewhat lacking. The company was soon routed by the four Elves. Those who were not killed had run.  
  
Haldir jumped down from his tree. He went straight to his brothers to check on how they were. Rumil had a long cut down his forearm, but the bleeding had almost stopped. Orophin had already begun to bandage it. Greenleaf strode over to one of the orcs who was still breathing, albeit raspily. He leaned down to stare it in the face. It wasn't a pleasant sight. Its usually foul countenance was made even more hideous by its wounds. Greenleaf gripped it by the hair.  
  
"What do orcs want in the Golden Wood?" he asked, spitting in its face.  
  
It gave no reply, but merely chuckled, blood running down its chin. Greenleaf rested his knife against its neck, pressing it ever so slightly.  
  
"Tell me and I shall kill you swiftly," he promised, "else you die painfully. Tell me!"  
  
Again there was no reply. The orc slumped in the Elf's grip, now beyond answering any questions. Greenleaf dropped it contemptuously, re-sheathing his knife at his side. He walked over to the other three Elves. Haldir looked worried.  
  
"That's a far bigger company of orcs than we've had come visiting for years," he said.  
  
"I think they were probably after something specific," Greenleaf said, though he didn't voice exactly what his suspicions were. The only thing in Lórien that he knew of and that orcs –or, at least, the orcs' master- would want would be the ring. The small, insignificant-looking circle of gold that he had retrieved from Saruman earlier that year, which was by all reports the final part of some plan of Sauron's. And if the crime boss was sending orcs into Lórien, all so clearly marked with his red eye insignia, then it was obviously very important to him. Important enough for him to risk showing his hand. That made him desperate, and dangerous.  
  
"She's going to want to know about this," Greenleaf continued, "come on."  
  
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It was only a day after the orc attack when Greenleaf was called back into G's office. He strolled through the office of Miss Evenstar, G's secretary.  
  
"Straight on in, Legolas," she told him, batting her eyelashes, "she's got others in there too."  
  
"Really?" he asked, pausing. "Who?"  
  
She shrugged. "Don't know. I didn't see them. I was in the bathroom."  
  
Smiling, Greenleaf walked through the padded door to the office, mentally shaking his head at the folly of women. G's office was the same as ever; sparsely decorated, with the main feature being the large desk in the centre. G herself, the Lady otherwise known as Galadriel, stood behind it, dressed in her usual white dress. She nodded a greeting as the Elf entered, which he returned, before taking notice of the others in the room. One was a Man, dressed in worn leathers, with his chin coated in stubble. It was Aragorn, with whom Greenleaf had ventured into Isengard to defeat Saruman. Greenleaf respected him and his abilities, and was glad to see him again. The other in the room he was not so glad to see. At first he didn't even notice him, as the Elf's eyes were looking at head height. But looking down, he saw. A Dwarf stood beside the Man, short and stocky in his chainmail. He and Greenleaf eyed each other, both apparently surprised.  
  
"These are the two who you will be working with on your next mission, Legolas," G said.  
  
"A Dwarf? Greenleaf asked, unable to stop himself.  
  
"An Elf?" the Dwarf asked, at the same moment.  
  
"My reasons will become clear," G answered rather testily. "Aragorn you already know. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, of the Lonely Mountain. Gimli, this is Legolas Greenleaf, agent 0011. You will work together, do you hear?" She gazed at each in turn. "Your group codename will be 'Hunters'.  
  
"As you all now know, Sauron has been making advances on Lothlórien, the latest of which was the attack yesterday. He has grown bold indeed to make such a move. Which means that he needs what we have: namely, the ring. So, we're sending you to find Sauron, so we can try to bring him down."  
  
Both Aragorn and Gimli looked at her in consternation. Greenleaf, ever the professional, stayed emotionless.  
  
"How will we know how to find him?" the Man asked.  
  
"The orcs were seen coming out of the Mines of Moria. You three will go into the Mines. That, Legolas, is why I'm sending Gimli with you."  
  
Greenleaf nodded. "But Sauron won't have his base this close to Lórien," he reasoned.  
  
"No," she replied, "but it is likely that he's using the Mines as a temporary, or outreach base. You'll have to be careful; try not to be seen. Your job is just to find out where Sauron's base is."  
  
"It's in Mordor, isn't it?" Aragorn asked. "Away to the East."  
  
"So our surveillance tells us," G answered, "but Mordor is a large place. We want more detailed information on exactly where; information that you'll hopefully be able to find in the Mines. Rumour has it that Sauron's base is hidden in Mordor somewhere, and not in his tower, Barad-Dûr. You three will enter Moria by stealth tomorrow night. Travel there tonight, scout out the area during the day tomorrow, and then go in through Dimrill Dale. Is that clear?"  
  
All three nodded. Greenleaf and Gimli eyed each other surreptitiously.  
  
"Good," she said, "U has some things for you downstairs. Good luck, all of you." With such a clear dismissal, they headed for the door. "Oh, and Legolas?" she continued. "A word please."  
  
Allowing Aragorn and Gimli to go past him, Greenleaf turned back to G. The lady's face was calm and serious, as beautiful as it ever was.  
  
"Do make an effort to co-operate with Gimli," she said gently, "your team needs to work together if you are to succeed."  
  
Greenleaf paused before answering. He didn't want to question G –she was his boss after all, even if she was a woman- but still. "Since when have I worked with a Dwarf?" he asked bluntly.  
  
"Since now," she told him firmly. Seeing his expression, she continued. "Do not be too quick to judge him. He is more worthy than you give him credit for."  
  
"I will do it," he said, "for you, and it is my job, after all."  
  
"Of course," she said, smiling, "and Legolas, be careful."  
  
"Of course," he replied, grinning in return, "you always say that, and aren't I always?"  
  
"Never."  
  
Greenleaf only laughed, going out of the door. G watched his back as he left, hair swinging behind him.  
  
"But you'll need to be this time," she muttered.  
  
He caught up with Aragorn and Gimli just along from U's room. Remembering G's words the Elf made an effort not to scowl outright at the Dwarf. Gimli had no such compunction. From under his red hair he sent a glare of vicious intensity the other's way. Ignoring it, Greenleaf spoke to Aragorn.  
  
"How have you been?" he asked. "I have not seen you since we returned from Isengard."  
  
"Fine," Aragorn replied, "I've mostly stayed in Rivendell. I've done a lot of paperwork, worse luck. It's good to have some action. You?"  
  
"The same. You'd never have thought an organisation like this would have such amounts of paperwork." Greenleaf sighed. "At the moment there's some group lobbying for less paper, particularly as the stuff's made from trees. But of course, they write all this on pamphlets, which means more paper."  
  
Aragorn chuckled. "I can see how that's a problem," he said.  
  
"Never let me become a paper-pusher," Greenleaf warned as they entered U's room, "it might drive me to do something very unsociable and violent."  
  
He glanced around, always interested in what the wizard and his assistants were working on. One Elf carried a pitcher, from which he poured water onto a tray, and then proceeded to use it to talk to another Elf on the other side of the room. Greenleaf had seen this before. It was the MIRROR: Message Intercom Receiver, Regardless Of Range. It was good for sending emergency communication, but could be unreliable, due to its tendency to broadcast other things. G had one permanently in her rooms, in which she kept an eye on events happening in Middle Earth. Presumably U was trying to improve their reliability for mass communication.  
  
U came through the door on the opposite side to the trio. He was a tall, grey-clad wizard, with long hair and beard. He was otherwise known as Gandalf, the Istar. Greenleaf had great respect for him, knowing that the old wizard was indeed formidable despite his kindly demeanour. His twinkling eyes could become steely in a moment if the situation demanded. Seeing Greenleaf, Aragorn and Gimli, he strode over.  
  
"Good, good," he said, rubbing his hands, "G told me about your mission. This way."  
  
He led the three down a corridor. Gimli had to hurry to keep up on his short legs. They stopped in a small room, where U went to a cupboard and pulled out two cloth-wrapped objects. He placed them on the table in the centre of the room, unwrapping first one then the other. They were like glass stones, about the size of a human palm. At first they appeared clear, but closer examination revealed strange lights within.  
  
"These are based on the design of the palantíri," U told them, "though in a smaller, more compact form. One will stay here, and the other you shall carry. You can use it to get in touch with us here."  
  
He wrapped one up again and placed it in a small pouch, which he handed to Greenleaf. The Elf took it, feeling the solid weight in his hand for a moment before hanging it from his belt. It rested against his hip on the opposite side to where his knife hung.  
  
"Now come along," U continued, sweeping out of the room and motioning for them to follow. "Legolas, you've still got your Lórien Elf-hair, haven't you? Good, I'd hate to have to replace that quite so soon. Aragorn, you've got that rather wonderful sword, if I remember rightly. And Gimli, you favour axes, I presume? Excellent. No need for arming you then. Just one thing here; a moment."  
  
He darted into a side room, coming out an instant later with some folded grey material. He handed this to Gimli.  
  
"A Lórien stealth cloak," he explained, "it makes it very tricky for enemies to pick you out when wearing this. It's designed to help you blend in with your background. Legolas, Aragorn, you've both still got yours? Good. Now come on, keep up." He led them further down the corridor to the stables.  
  
"Aragorn, you'll be taking Hasufel. You get on fairly well with him. Legolas, you've got Shadowfax again. It seems he's the only horse who you haven't managed to frighten the living daylights out of. And you'll have Gimli riding behind you."  
  
"What?" Greenleaf was unable to prevent his reaction, despite of what he had said to G.  
  
"I have to ride with an Elf?" Gimli spat. "It's bad enough that I have to ride at all!"  
  
"Therein lies your answer," U said dryly, "Dwarves are not experienced with horses, therefore you must ride with another. And Shadowfax is the strongest we have."  
  
Greenleaf simply rolled his eyes, resigning himself to it. Gimli scowled from under his bushy hair.  
  
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Additional notes (or, random mini-essay thing that I happened to write): It's easier than you might think to draw parallels between James Bond and The Lord of the Rings, and not only through the characters. On one level (and I'm being very careful how I say this) LOTR can be seen as an allegory for World War I, or even WW2. And looking at it all in that mindset, lines can start to be drawn. James Bond was a man of the Cold War era, when the enemy was the big Russian bear away to the East (but I'm not saying anything bad about the Russians!). And the Communist colour was red (as is the Labour party's), like the red eye of Sauron. The Shire is (tongue firmly in cheek) plucky little Britain (because we're all fat with hairy feet, obviously) and the Riders of Rohan and such are maybe the Magyar (Hungarian) horsemen, showing two fingers to their Mordor oppressors (like Hungary in 1956 –except Rohan won. Then again they had outside help. Sorry to go on, just something I studied). Anyway, the point of all that is, well, nothing really. I just wanted to point it out, explain stuff (and sound clever). I'm a sad bastard sometimes. 


	2. Moonlight and Lembasbread

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: The title is sort of taken from "Pink Lights and Champagne", from "Casino Royale". This whole chapter, now that I read it again, contains what can only be described as dramatic irony. That's what you get from studying English.  
  
A brief note on updates: I shall strive my hardest not to update later than a week apart. The chapters here are twice as long as in "Ringfinger" and consequently take rather longer tot ype. But I'm doing my best, honest.  
  
Review replies:  
  
THECheeseTurkey: Most original? I don't know...I rather nicked a lot of ideas from dear old Mr Fleming. But thanks anyway! That's an interesting name you have there.  
  
theinklesspen: thank you!  
  
Nemo Returning: Oh, I didn't, did I? Not the twinkling eyes! Oh, I am so ashamed. It's just something about old men with beards and magical properties; they just need twinkling eyes. There're probably people paid to follow them round pointing torches in their ears. And this is a lot longer than the last fic.  
  
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Chapter 2. Moonlight and Lembasbread  
  
The journey to Dimrill Dale took only a little time that night. Shadowfax and Hasufel made short work of the distance, following the merry-watered Celebrant up the valley. Greenleaf felt his spirits rise as they rode on, with the stars gleaming overhead. He was out on a job again, away from the drudges of paperwork. There would, hopefully, be orcs to kill and adventures to be had. Life was good and he felt alive again. He was happy.  
  
At least, until the Dwarf behind him shifted and grumbled under his breath. His hands tightened on Greenleaf's waist as Shadowfax went over a rougher patch of ground. The Elf felt the rough beard scratching against his back and he sighed. A Dwarf. Of all the races of Middle Earth, it had to be a Dwarf. He hated the creatures, with their short stature, their haste to anger, and their general hairiness. They lived in deep caves below the ground, where they hewed and slaved at the rock. Such an unpleasant way of life bred unpleasant people. It wasn't that Greenleaf was a racist, per say. It was just that that was how he knew Dwarves.  
  
Men were better, he supposed. They were at least of a decent height. But even they couldn't really compare to Elves. Their senses were dull, their strength lesser, and they had not lived long enough to properly hone their skills. Their lives were laughably short in the eyes of an Elf. If Greenleaf had lived among Men then he would have seen countless numbers die, merely of old age. Men seemed so transient, like a flower that buds, blooms and fades in a few days, or even hours.  
  
Aragorn was different. He had Elven blood in him for a start, from the Numenorean line. He was older than he appeared in comparison to other Men, and would live longer. He had proved his worth in Isengard in Greenleaf's opinion. Obviously, he wasn't up to Elf standards, but Greenleaf was actually quite glad to be working with him again. He didn't feel the need to be watching him the whole time. The Man could be relied on.  
  
The Dale became visible ahead, and they slowed their horses. The entrance to the Mines was a dark mark against the rocks, almost invisible.  
  
"Do you know something of the area?" Greenleaf asked, turning to speak to Gimli.  
  
The Dwarf clutched at the Elf as he almost fell off, short legs unable to grip the horse's bare back.  
  
"I do," he said, attempting to look calm.  
  
"Then where would you suggest we camp for the remainder of the night?" the Elf asked.  
  
Gimli frowned for a moment. "Just up to the left here," he said, "in the edge of the trees. We'll be out of sight there."  
  
Following the Dwarf's directions, the three were soon at the spot he had described. They dismounted –Gimli grudgingly accepting Greenleaf's help- and allowed Hasufel and Shadowfax to wander among the trees a little, though not out of sight. They laid their bags down on the ground.  
  
"We'd better not light a fire," Aragorn warned, settling down by a tree, "it'd be seen."  
  
"Right," Gimli grunted, sitting himself and picking up an axe. He began to whet the edge of the blade with slow rhythmic movements.  
  
Greenleaf remained standing, gazing out over the open area of Dimrill Dale. "You can smell the orcs," he said quietly, "they're in there all right." He turned his head to look at his companions. "Get some sleep," he told them, "I shall keep watch."  
  
That said he turned away again. He heard Gimli grumbling as he fussed around, but finally all was silent. Apart, that was, from the gentle buzzing of the Dwarf's snores. Greenleaf shot a venomous glare at the sleeping form, which of course did no good but made him feel better. The sky was clear above them, allowing the moon to illuminate the area. The Elf, standing completely still beside a tree, surveyed it all with a practised eye.  
  
Their assignment sounded simple enough. Get into the orcs' lair, find out where their boss was and get out alive. Simple, though the caves were a complicating factor. Greenleaf wasn't afraid of caves –far from it, being as their homes in Mirkwood were caves- but these were much larger. They were mines, hewn by the Dwarves. Any race that lived their lives so deep underground couldn't be worth associating with. Greenleaf scowled. Damn Dwarves. He could have done this job on his own, were it not for the fact that it was in caves where a guide would be needed. And G, in her wisdom, had decided upon a Dwarf for that duty. Even Greenleaf had to admit that it made sense, though that didn't mean he had to like it. Aragorn had probably been brought in to keep Elf and Dwarf away from each other's throats.  
  
A pair of orcs left the gateway of the Mines, crossing the rocks at the head of the Dale. They came to a halt a little way from the Hunters' campsite, sitting on two boulders. Greenleaf watched them but didn't move. He listened to their conversation.  
  
"All I'm saying, Mauhúr, is that we lost the entire patrol in that last attempt," one said, pulling out a knife and picking his nails with it. He ate what he picked out.  
  
"It is necessary, Grishnákh," Mauhúr replied, "you know that he wants that thing. We ain't got no option."  
  
"I'm getting sick of that Uglúk and his bunch lording over us. Just 'cause they're bigger and 'better'." Grishnákh spat on the floor.  
  
"And if they hear you say that then you'll be for it," his companion warned, glancing around, "'sides, what've they ever done to you?"  
  
"We've pulled guard duty here for the last three weeks," Grishnákh grumbled, "tell me that ain't coincidence."  
  
"Well, it won't be the same when we get back to Mordor," Mauhúr placated him, "our boss won't stand for it, and their's won't say anything."  
  
Grishnákh agreed with a grunt and they both fell into silence. Greenleaf remained leaning against his tree, perfectly still so as not to be seen. What he had just heard was very interesting indeed. Gimli's snores were still vibrating behind him, but the orcs didn't seem to have heard, luckily. Greenleaf didn't hold much with luck. Dratted Dwarf, he thought, he could jeopardise this entire mission if he's not careful.  
  
"I bloody hate guard duty," Grishnákh muttered, "always sittin' out here in the cold."  
  
"Do you always have to moan?" Mauhúr asked. "It won't be for much longer anyway. And you know it's too bloody hot there."  
  
"I know, I know." Grishnákh stood and paced a little way from his rock. He rapped the butt of his spear on the ground irritably. "But it's boring."  
  
Mauhúr merely snorted and leant himself back. Grishnákh walked across the flat area, swinging his arms. He stared round the edge, squinting his tiny little eyes. The trees comfortably shaded the ground beneath their branches; comfortably for those hidden there at least. The orc eyed the darkness suspiciously, but did nothing more. Too many nights of absolutely nothing had made him complacent. The moon and stars shone brightly overhead, but he wasn't interested.  
  
"You got anything to drink?" he asked, settling himself back beside Mauhúr. "I'm dyin' for a swig of something."  
  
"You always are," the other orc grumbled, but passed him a flask nonetheless. Grishnákh took a long swig and belched loudly.  
  
"That's the stuff," he said, taking another swig before passing it back. "Not as good as we've got back in-."  
  
"Shut up," Mauhúr interrupted, "you've a bloody one track mind, you have. Just for once, let's do guard duty in silence. It'll be good for me ears, at least."  
  
"Don't be such a miserable git," Grishnákh muttered, but was silent anyway.  
  
The rest of the night –as much as it was- passed quietly. Greenleaf leant against his tree, as still as he had been since stopping. He drifted into reverie, but still stayed alert in case anything happened. The moon sank as the remaining hours passed, its silver light gradually fading as it went. The stars disappeared one by one as the dawn glow began to spread across the sky. Dew rose on the small patches of grass and Greenleaf could feel the trees beginning to wake, stretching their branches and sending sap through their wood. Out among the rocks, Mauhúr gave a grunt.  
  
"C'mon," he said, poking the recumbent form of the other, "time to go in."  
  
Still half asleep and blinking his tiny little eyes, Grishnákh followed the other orc up the Dale and into the Mines. They vanished into the darkness. Greenleaf sighed and stretched his back. The orcs wouldn't be out today. Normal orcs couldn't stand the light of the sun, and even the Uruk Hai preferred the cover of night. If they were trying to stay hidden then they would keep down in the Mines. The Elf turned and moved to wake his companions.  
  
Aragorn woke as soon as Greenleaf squeezed his shoulder. The Dwarf was harder to wake. Eventually Greenleaf succeeded by dripping a little water onto Gimli's face. A snort heralded the Dwarf's awakening. He sat up and glared at the Elf, who sat calmly back on his heels and looked at the other.  
  
"You'll have to wake easier than that, Master Dwarf," he told him, "an orc could have got you, easy as anything."  
  
"I'd have heard an orc coming," Gimli said, still glaring, "but you, Master Elf, are too light-footed. Elves and their damned sneaking around."  
  
"What's for breakfast?" Aragorn asked, breaking up any burgeoning argument.  
  
"Lembasbread," Greenleaf said, pulling some out of his pack. He divided it up and handed it out. Gimli looked at his askance.  
  
"This may keep an Elf alive," he complained, "being as they're skinny as birds. But a Dwarf cannot survive on this!"  
  
"It is more filling than you think," Aragorn cut in, before Greenleaf could retort, "just eat it."  
  
With a sceptical look on his face, Gimli did so, though he seemed more content by the time he had finished it.  
  
"So," he said, picking crumbs out of his beard, "it's reconnaissance today, is it? Sneaking around as the goblins sleep inside."  
  
"I think you'll find," Greenleaf said, his tone somewhat strained, "that most of this mission is 'sneaking around', indeed all of it. And the orcs will not all be asleep."  
  
"That's one thing that puzzled me," Aragorn commented. "How come we're going in at night, when they'll all be awake?"  
  
"We should be less noticed while they're all up and around," Greenleaf explained, "orcs aren't renowned for their eyesight, but they'd hear us if we were the only ones moving about. And we'll be more likely to hear something if they're awake and talking."  
  
He picked up his pack from the ground, refastening it tightly. Grasping a tree branch above his head, he pulled himself up in a quick movement, one foot braced against the trunk. He swung round to balance on the tree's long limb. Gimli watched as Greenleaf wedged his pack high in the branches.  
  
"Pass yours up," the Elf instructed, reaching down. Aragorn did so, and all three packs were soon hidden. Greenleaf leapt down, landing lightly on the soft ground.  
  
"Where are we going to start?" Aragorn asked.  
  
"Spying out our entrance would seem sensible," Greenleaf answered. He turned to Gimli, trying to remember to remain civil. "Do you know of a secret way in?"  
  
"That I do," the Dwarf said, sounding fairly smug, "round to the right of the main entrance there."  
  
"Then that's where we'll start," Greenleaf said, shouldering his bow, "we'll keep to the trees as much as possible. Lead on, Master Dwarf."  
  
The odd threesome made their way round the edge of the open area. The sun was rising in the East, beginning to spread its light down from the tops of the Misty Mountains. Gimli stumped his way along under the trees, humming very quietly to himself. The Elf and the Man followed behind. It wasn't long before they were standing in front of a small insignificant-looking cave in the side of the rock. Gimli moved forward and brushed some of the vegetation aside.  
  
"Here," he said gruffly, "through here. There's a small passageway that comes out in a side tunnel. It's not very well known."  
  
"Looks quite small," Aragorn commented, stooping to see in.  
  
"It gets a bit higher further on," Gimli said, "but it was built for Dwarves, not you tall folks."  
  
"It'll do fine," Greenleaf said, "will we need torches to see the way?"  
  
"They would be more likely to get us spotted, wouldn't they?" Gimli asked, then continued. "I'll be all right. You'll just have to watch your heads, that's all."  
  
"We can do that," Greenleaf assured him, with more than a hint of sarcasm. He walked away from the rock face and looked out over the downward slope of the base of the mountains. "It would seem logical that the orcs will have been using the Dale as their exit and entrance way, if Sauron's base is in Mordor. They'll probably have travelled some way south of Lórien before turning eastwards. We should check the closest part of their route for any clues."  
  
"Good idea," Aragorn agreed, "better than sitting around waiting for dusk. Their trail shouldn't be too hard to find."  
  
It was a short walk round the south side of the Dale, and as Aragorn had predicted, the orc trail was easy to see, though it had not been trodden in recent days. Branches at the side of the track had been knocked and broken, pale ends showing through the dark cracked bark. The grass was still partially flattened, and vegetation was torn. Aragorn, the Ranger, surveyed the trail with an expert eye. He stooped to pick up a piece of metal, holding it out to the others.  
  
"Orcish armour," he said.  
  
Greenleaf took it to examine. It was dark and slightly rusty, splattered with dark substances and something that could have been white.  
  
"There's been more than one lot along here," Aragorn continued, "and at different times, in different-sized groups. It's certainly a well-used route."  
  
They tracked it a little way, but not far. It soon became clear that once further from the Mines, the orcs had taken more care to hide their trail.  
  
"It would probably be possible to follow it all the way to Mordor," Aragorn said, "but we'd have to go slowly for fear of missing it. We couldn't ride."  
  
"That's why we need to get in there," Greenleaf said with a smile. He looked up at the sky, seeing the sun high. "Time for lunch, I suppose."  
  
Personally, he wasn't hungry, but he knew that both the Man and the Dwarf would be. He walked off a little to perch on a rock. Gimli sat against a tree, concentrating his attentions on his axe once again, sharpening the edge. Greenleaf looked up as Aragorn came up behind him. The Man sat down next to the Elf.  
  
"You don't like him, do you?" he asked, gesturing towards Gimli.  
  
"He's a Dwarf," was Greenleaf's short reply. His face was serene as he stared at the sky, following the course of a bird too distant for the Man's eyes.  
  
Aragorn sighed. "We do all have to work together." He sighed. "Can't you pretend to like him or something?"  
  
Greenleaf favoured him with a scathing look. "I am being perfectly civil. I do appreciate the fact that we have to work together, but I don't need to like him."  
  
"All right!" Aragorn said with a laugh. "You'll probably never have to see him again after this mission anyway."  
  
"Here's hoping," Greenleaf commented dryly.  
  
"It's only a short one, at least," the Man said, "just get in, get what we want, and get out. Simple, really."  
  
"I certainly hope so." The Elf rolled his eyes. "Before that Dwarf drives me crazy."  
  
After lunch they checked through the rest of the woods. Knowing the terrain was an essential part of any mission. Greenleaf found himself walking alongside Gimli, through no fault of his own. He frowned darkly whenever he thought the Dwarf wasn't looking. Gimli was just so irritating! He just strolled along humming some awful Dwarvish song –probably one about gold- with no regard for anyone else. Greenleaf wasn't really into Dwarf music; too many 'heigh ho's for his taste.  
  
"What's got you so miserable, Master Elf?" Gimli suddenly asked, noticing Greenleaf's sour look. "Not looking forward to the Mines?"  
  
The Elf looked at him sharply. "I fear no caves, Master Dwarf," he snapped. He turned his head, facing away from the Dwarf. In doing this he failed to see the mantrap before he stood in it.  
  
The metal jaws, edged with sharp points, sprang upwards. There was no time to leap up or out of the way, no way to avoid those teeth. Greenleaf felt them just beginning to dig into the flesh of his calf, when they stopped abruptly. He looked down to see Gimli's axe handle wedged in the trap, effectively holding the trap from closing completely.  
  
"Watch your step," the Dwarf said lightly. Greenleaf's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.  
  
Aragorn caught them both up and took hold of the axe with Gimli. Together, they used it as a lever, opening the trap. It was slow-going; the trap was old and stiff. Inch by inch, the jaws widened, eventually allowing Greenleaf to slip out of it. Gimli yanked his axe out, leaving the trap to snap shut harmlessly.  
  
"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked, touching Greenleaf's shoulder. The Elf was bent over, rubbing his leg where the trap had caught it.  
  
"Fine," he replied. The metal teeth had not cut into his skin, but there would be bruises. He glanced over to where Gimli stood, fingering a scratch along his axe handle.  
  
"Thanks," he managed to offer, though he consoled himself by thinking how it was the Dwarf's fault really.  
  
Gimli snorted. "Couldn't have you getting incapacitated before tonight, could I?"  
  
Greenleaf almost retorted, but held his tongue. The mission would be over soon, and he would never have to see the Dwarf again afterwards.  
  
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Additional Notes (yes, more. On characters this time): As characters go, fitting them in roles was fairly easy. Legolas Greenleaf is my dashing secret agent, complete with an old-fashioned set of prejudices. Splendid. The fact of him being from Mirkwood makes him different from the Lothlórien Elves, in the way that James Bond has a Scottish father and Swiss mother (according to the biography penned by M in "You Only Live Twice"). Aragorn has, quite nicely, fitted into the role of Felix Leiter (as Idlewild pointed out quite correctly –good work!). That does rather explain some things that happen within this fic (cough –say no more). Rather oddly, Gimli has replaced the ever-present 'Bond girl', though without the physical attraction (unless you happen to like short hairy men with a penchant for axes). This will not be a slash fic, it is not my intention to pair off characters in that way in this fic (I have other fics for that). G is naturally taking the place of M, with all her mysteriousness and power. Gandalf, as U, makes a charming replacement for Q; he's just as much a genius. And as for the bad guys. . .wait and see. I'll say no more now, but read carefully. 


	3. Stars Don't Shine In Caves

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: The song "Underneath the Mango Tree", which I have adapted in this chapter, comes from the film of Dr. No, not the book. I just couldn't resist. I even managed a cliffhanger at the end!  
  
Review replies:  
  
theinklesspen: thanks! I can just see Gimli in a skimpy little dress, can't you?  
  
Nemo Returning: now that's an interesting idea...what do orcs have under their fingernails? Bits of food, bits of skin...I'm going no further.  
  
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Chapter 3. Stars Don't Shine In Caves  
  
It was dusk when the 'Hunters' returned to the small cave that hid the secret entrance to the Mines. The moon had waned further than the previous night and occasionally became obscured by small wisps of cloud, making the night darker. They were all wary as they made their way through the trees, watching both the area around them as well as the ground beneath their feet. Having already found one trap –which the orcs had presumably set for animals for food- they were extra cautious about walking into any more. The trees made odd shadows that moved and jumped in a most animalistic way. The cave was inconspicuous among the rocks, but Gimli found it instantly.  
  
"I'll go first," he whispered, "and you follow. Mind your head as you go. Don't want you knocking yourselves silly because of those great gangling legs of yours, do we?"  
  
"We know," Greenleaf answered, hiding his annoyance at the Dwarf's taking charge. He had to accept it; Gimli was the expert when it came to caves that his own kind had dug. Why anyone would want a great hole in the ground was beyond Greenleaf. "Let's get on with it," he said.  
  
Gimli grunted and vanished into the cave. Greenleaf followed suit, and was shortly in what seemed to be complete darkness. Abandoning the idea of seeing his way, which he knew he would have to, he instead concentrated on listening. Gimli was before him, huffing and puffing slightly as he made his way across the uneven ground. Aragorn was behind; Greenleaf could hear the rustle of his leathers and the faint jingle of his scabbard. Both Man and Elf were forced to walk in a hunched, bent fashion, with one hand above their heads to avoid knocking them on the ceiling, which was at Dwarf height.  
  
"Careful," Gimli said after a while, "it gets much lower here. You'll have to crawl."  
  
And crawl they did, on hands and knees. Greenleaf was carefully aware of the bow and quiver strapped to his back, making sure he crawled low enough to avoid scraping them. He was glad it was dark. They must have made a pretty sight: Dwarf, Elf and Man, nose to arse in parade. He hoped he wouldn't catch anything from the Dwarf. Crawling along this close behind couldn't be healthy. Not that he believed all the tales he was told as an Elfling. He knew that you wouldn't start growing hair on your body if a Dwarf so much as looked at you, or that touching a Dwarf stunted your growth. Greenleaf had grown too old for such superstitions, but ingrained attitudes were hard to break. He saw no reason for changing them now; as far as he had seen Dwarves were as bad as he had been told.  
  
Finally, a faint light appeared in the tunnel ahead of them. Gimli stopped just short of the end, allowing the other two to gather behind him.  
  
"This is where we split," he whispered. "Aragorn, you're going right and up. Elf, your way is straight ahead."  
  
"Let's go," Greenleaf said, ignoring the implied insult. They all slipped out of the hole and went their separate ways.  
  
Greenleaf ran along his corridor until he had the cover of shadows. The splitting up had been pre-arranged; the best method for searching the Mines efficiently. Aragorn was taking the higher level, Greenleaf the middle, and Gimli the lower. There were of course more levels, but not all of them would be occupied, unless the orc infestation was far worse than they thought. The Mines themselves were huge; an incredible work for such a small race of people. The Elf resisted the urge to shudder as he thought about just how much rock was above his head. He had a job to do, and he'd be damned if a Dwarf was to best him at it. He headed on.  
  
Before turning the corner when he reached it, Greenleaf peered round it first, and his caution was immediately rewarded. A pair of orcs was walking towards him, talking to each other. Greenleaf hauled himself up the wall a little way to where a lump of rock formed a small ledge. He sat on it, drawing his knees up to his chest and tucking his cloak around him. The orcs walked past below, never even looking upwards. They passed on, continuing along the corridor and grunting occasionally. Greenleaf waited until they were mostly out of sight before leaping down. They were probably two of the guards, he reasoned. He needed to get further into the area that the orcs inhabited. The information he was after was more likely to be there. He hurried on, checking around each corner before rounding it. The Mines were very dark, though occasional torches were bracketed to the walls to provide light.  
  
The light grew brighter as he reached the more populated area of the Mines. Not much brighter, being that orcs were used to the darkness, but there were more torches and more noise. Greenleaf could hear orcs talking, though they spoke in the Black tongue of Mordor. They sounded fairly rowdy, and Greenleaf soon knew the reason why. An orc staggered down the corridor, straight into the Elf as he peered round the corner. Looking somewhat startled, the orc knocked Greenleaf back, the expression on its face changing to what could only be described as a leer. Greenleaf could smell and almost taste the alcohol that rolled off the creature in waves.  
  
"Hello, Elf," it muttered drunkenly, "what're you doin' here?" It chuckled, its breath washing out of its foul mouth.  
  
Greenleaf frowned, eyes narrowing. He couldn't be discovered! He stuck out his first two fingers, pressing them fast into the orc's neck under its armour. It slumped instantly. Greenleaf caught it and dragged it into a corner, out of sight. Hopefully when it woke –which would be some time yet- it would either have forgotten its encounter with the Elf or be too late to do anything about. It probably wouldn't be missed; its companions were probably in an equal state of inebriation. But Greenleaf had been lucky, and he knew it. He would have to be even more careful, particularly around the crowded areas. He pulled up his hood, tucking his hair under it to hide it. Obviously he couldn't pass as an orc, but such a measure would keep him concealed in the shadows. He moved on silently, heading for where the most noise was coming from.  
  
A large group of orcs was in one of the rooms off the corridor, all singing raucously. Greenleaf winced as they massacred one of the popular songs everyone knew so well.  
  
"Underneath the hanging tree, my love and I, we fight all day," the bellowed. He shuddered and passed on. He wouldn't find anything there.  
  
The corridor opened up almost immediately into a huge hall, many lengths long. Huge archways rose and fell along it, vanishing into the shadows of the ceiling, Slipping into the shadow by the door, Greenleaf took a few moments to examine it. The stonework was magnificent, carefully crafted over what must have been many years. It was impossible to see how far the hall extended, either sideways or upwards. A line of torches, one to each column, marked the way through. Greenleaf wondered why such short people as Dwarves felt they needed such huge dwellings. As far as he was concerned, it was their greed that had motivated them to do so, and in all that they did. He knew the stories about the Dwarves in Moria, and how they had delved too deep. That was probably the reason why it was full of orcs now.  
  
Greenleaf crept down the hall, keeping for the most part away from the torchlight. He didn't want stray completely out of it, as walking in absolute darkness was an invitation to fall into an unseen hole or similar. But he kept his eyes checking all around, always alert for any orc anywhere near him. He made it to the other end without incident, but had to dart to the side as three orcs came through the door. They walked past, impervious to the Elf's presence. He watched them go and as soon as they had he continued through the doorway, into the next hall. It was smaller than the other, though still wonderful in its craft. He traversed it at speed, stopping just before the end.  
  
Above him, light showed through a wide, shallow opening. Orcish voices could be heard from there. Greenleaf studied the ornate carvings on the wall for a moment –raising his eyebrows at some; there obviously were such things as female Dwarves. Then, grasping the rocky protuberances, he began the climb up. Though the foot and finger holds were small, Greenleaf found it fairly easy going, reaching the opening after only a few minutes. He looked in, careful to stay out of sight of any inside. A group of orcs, of the type commonly known in this area as goblins, were sat around in a circle. A small fire flickered in a corner. The orcs were playing a card game with grubby, much-used cards.  
  
"Have you got any fives?" one asked, scratching his belly.  
  
"Go hunt," another replied. The first scowled and reached for the pile in the middle.  
  
There was silence for a moment, broken only by the chink as a bottle was set down, empty. An orc grunted, thumbing through its cards morosely.  
  
"How much longer have we got to sit around here?" it complained.  
  
"Until we get hold of 'it', you know that," the one next to him answered, "go and volunteer to be in the next patrol if you want. Get yourself killed by an Elf and give us all a break."  
  
"Shut up," the one addressed said, "you know we don't even get considered for that."  
  
"That might change soon," another commented, chewing its finger, "they ain't going to keep throwing away the big ones like that." It looked at its cards. "Got any Queens?"  
  
Greenleaf began climbing back down again. He wouldn't hear much here that he hadn't heard the night before. To get more detailed information he would have to find some of the Uruk Hai; the crossbreed orcs bred specially for battle. There had to be some here, as it had been a patrol of them that had attacked Lothlórien. Also, the orcs had referred to the Uruk Hai in their conversations, usually in disparaging terms. That information was worth remembering for later. Greenleaf reached the ground and continued on his way, keeping his goal in mind. But the Uruk Hai seemed to be nowhere around.  
  
He kept to the main corridor that he was on. It went mainly straight, with side tunnels branching off into the Mines. If he had that time, Greenleaf might have explored down some of them, though he wouldn't have gone far. No torches illuminated them, and the chances of becoming lost were high. Maybe not for a Dwarf, but Elves were not made for navigating deep, tunnel-ridden caves. Besides, anything important would be more likely to be near the main areas. With that in mind, Greenleaf went on, listening all the time for anything important or interesting. His attention bore fruit a few minutes later, when an Uruk Hai stormed angrily out of one of the side tunnels ahead of him.  
  
"Your methods are foolish, Uglúk!" it shouted to someone behind him. Greenleaf concealed himself to listen, melting into the shadows by the wall.  
  
"So you have said, Lugbúrz," the other, still unseen one replied, "though you have not said why." Uglúk stepped out into the corridor. He was taller than the other Uruk Hai that Greenleaf had seen, a full head above Lugbúrz. His skin gleamed darkly in the torchlight and his face was calm. At least, as calm as such creatures got.  
  
"For starters, there're the patrols that you sent out," Lugbúrz said, holding up a finger, "all of which have been killed. And we're no closer to that ring. Second," he raised another stubby finger, "it's not going to be long before the Elves start investigating. And third," he stuck a third finger up, "the orcs are getting restless."  
  
Uglúk looked at him for a moment, staring intently, making him twitch uneasily. The smaller Uruk Hai glanced at the floor for a second, fidgeting with his hands.  
  
"I mean," he said, "we're going to have them all in a rebellion soon. They'll have our heads!"  
  
Uglúk gave him another long look. "They will not 'have out heads'," he said slowly and quietly, "they are too disorganised and pose no threat. When those Elves try their hand at 'investigation' they will find us more than prepared. Elves will find no welcome here! And we will get that ring. Failure is not an option."  
  
He turned to walk away, and Greenleaf caught a glimpse of the mark on his arm. It was a white hand. Uglúk must have been bred in the caverns under Isengard, under the watchful eye and hand of Saruman. And he seemed to be the superior of Lugbúrz, who clearly bore the red eye of Sauron on his hide, though that could have been due to the other's greater size. Greenleaf watched as Uglúk walked off. The Elf was ready to follow as Lugbúrz went to pursue the other Uruk Hai. But just then he realised that there was someone in the tunnel behind him, and that he had been seen. Giving no indication that he realised the fact, Greenleaf reached slowly for his knife, the movement concealed beneath his cloak. Then he pounced.  
  
He crossed the small tunnel with his customary speed, going for his watcher. Only to find, to his surprise, himself on his back with a blade against his throat. His own knife was against the other's neck, his hand pressed against a beard. A beard, he told himself, and sighed.  
  
"Get off me, Dwarf," he muttered, moving his knife away. The weigth on top of him lifted, as did the axe. Greenleaf got to his feet, re-sheathing his knife.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were checking the lower level."  
  
"I was following an orc," Gimli explained, looking annoyed, "it had been sent to find a map of their route home. I presumed that would be a good thing, yes?"  
  
Greenleaf was forced to agree. "So, did you find anything?" They kept their voices low, even though there were no orcs in sight.  
  
"Not yet," Gimli replied, "I was waiting for it to leave the room. It's just off the tunnel opposite here, see?"  
  
"I see." Greenleaf looked across to where Gimli was pointing. "Is it still in there?"  
  
"Yes," the Dwarf said, but even as he did an orc came hurrying out of the doorway they were watching, clutching a piece of paper in its hand.  
  
Dwarf and Elf glanced at each other but briefly, then moved to either side of the tunnel. The orc walked between them and got no further. Gimli's axe caught it in the knees while Greenleaf's hand held its mouth closed, muffling its cry of pain. As it fell, it bit the Elf's hand, but he held on grimly. His knife darted up and cut the orc's throat, killing it instantly. They dragged it from the tunnel and dumped the corpse in the corner of a small, otherwise empty room. Greenleaf picked up the paper and took it back into the corridor, where he examined it in the light. He held it low enough for Gimli to see.  
  
It showed a route between Moria and Mordor, ending in a destination in the centre of the plateau of Gorgoroth.  
  
"What's that?" Gimli asked, pointing to it. The light was too dim for him to read the script, but Greenleaf's keen eyes read it easily.  
  
"Orodruin," he said, "Mount Doom. Cheerful place for Sauron to have his lair." He folded the map and pushed it inside his tunic. He looked at his hand, which bled slightly from where the orc had bitten it. "I hope you can't catch anything from orcs," he commented. "I suppose that one won't be missed. I rather think he's one of the more rebellious orcs. His friends'll probably think he got caught or something. But anyway, we ought to find Aragorn. We've got what we need now."  
  
"There's a quicker route through these tunnels," Gimli said, "to the upper level at least. We'll have to find him though; it spreads fairly widely up there."  
  
He headed off down the dark tunnel, sure of his way even in the blackness. Greenleaf followed wordlessly. They had worked well together just then, taking the orc down quickly and efficiently. Of course, Greenleaf could have done it himself, but, well, the Dwarf obviously had some skill in the matter. And despite his prejudices, Greenleaf could appreciate skill when he saw it. He still didn't have to like Gimli, but he would work with him for now. It wouldn't be for long.  
  
The tunnels they followed were utterly devoid of light it seemed, but Gimli followed his path as surely as if it had been broad daylight. Greenleaf followed by listening to the sound of the Dwarf's boots, keeping them just ahead of him and being careful at any point where the footsteps paused or slowed. This way they made a quick route, and soon were on a spiral staircase going upwards. Before long, they were at the top, stepping out into a corridor. And stepping straight back again as an orc came running along.  
  
"Hey, you lot!" he yelled at a bunch of orcs who were just out of Greenleaf and Gimli's line of sight. "You're missin' all the fun!"  
  
"What's up?" one of them asked.  
  
"I'll tell you what's up," the orc told them excitably, "we've got us a man to play with. They're sticking him in the troll pit!"  
  
Greenleaf and Gimli both turned to look at each other, with exactly the same thought. They voiced it together in a whisper.  
  
"Aragorn."  
  
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	4. Fools Rush In

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Not really any. Surprising, I usually have a lot to say for myself. Just that updates may be slightly out over the next couple of weeks, but I'll do my best to keep it on time.  
  
Review reply: theinklesspen: Ingenious plan, huh? Well, I'll do my best.  
  
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Chapter 4. Fools Rush In  
  
Greenleaf couldn't help the feeling of dread that came over him when he realised what the orc meant. And, looking over, he could see that Gimli felt the same. Aragorn had been caught and was, by the sound of it, facing a horrible death. Probably not a quick one either; orcs were known for liking their 'fun'. Death by troll wasn't a nice way to go. Far too messy by Greenleaf's tastes, only to be reserved for the most deserving. And orcs, of course. Nothing was too horrible for them.  
  
The orc who had been the unwitting bearer of such bad news was succeeding in encouraging the other groups of orcs to follow him. "This way!" he said, and hurried down the corridor.  
  
Greenleaf and Gimli followed the group a little distance behind. The Elf's face was set. How dare the Man get himself caught! And after Greenleaf had trusted him. He had thought –after their experiences in Isengard- that the Man would be able to take care of himself. Typical Men. Greenleaf had revised his impression of Men after working with Aragorn against Saruman, and despite himself, had come to like the Man. He hoped that he was still alive, no matter how much trouble he would put them to. This was an unusual feeling for the Elf, as he normally wouldn't allow himself to become emotionally involved, particularly where mortals were concerned. It only led to messiness and complications.  
  
Cursing himself for being soft-hearted, Greenleaf hurried on after the orcs. Gimli was beside him, with a concerned look that vanished as soon as Greenleaf looked at him. He was damned if he was going to appear unprofessional. Especially in front of an Elf, of all creatures. The tunnel they followed twisted and turned, but stayed mainly level. As they went along the level of the noise ahead of them gradually crept up. At first it was just a low rumble, but it soon became more of a roar, and they could hear distinctly the sound of jeering. The caves opened up into a huge cavern, which was filled with orcs. The groups ahead had gone through and were jostling to see.  
  
Gimli touched Greenleaf's arm and motioned to the shadow behind him. "This way," he said.  
  
Greenleaf raised and eyebrow questioningly, exasperating the Dwarf.  
  
"We won't be able to do a thing from here, you daft Elf!" He vanished into the shadows.  
  
Greenleaf sighed, frowned, and followed. A small set of steps was concealed in the corner, narrow and unused. They led to a small balcony, which overlooked the cavern. As all the torches providing the light were below, the balcony itself cast a shadow over its occupants, enabling them to see everything without being seen themselves. What they saw was not hopeful.  
  
The floor seemed black with orcs, all elbowing and pushing each other for a better view of what was going on in the centre. And those goings-on were definitely not pleasing to the eyes of the Elf and the Dwarf. Two Uruk Hai dragged a bedraggled-looking Aragorn over the wide hole in the ground. His face was bruised, and he looked as if he was trying to hide his fear with a mask of anger. Greenleaf's hands were balled into fists as he watched, and Gimli's expression wasn't much happier. The Uruk Hai pulled the Man to the lip of the pit and dropped him in, laughing as they did so. To his credit, Aragorn landed well, rolling with the impact. It was then that he looked up to see the cave troll looming over him.  
  
"We've got to get him out of there," Greenleaf hissed to Gimli, "there's no way I'm leaving him in there."  
  
Gimli stared at him in surprise. "Are you crazy, Elf? Have those eyes of yours not seen the number of orcs down there? We'll be slaughtered!"  
  
"But we're not leaving him." Greenleaf looked out over the cavern, hiding his face in the shadows. He wasn't being emotional and stupid. He really wasn't. It was just that, well, G had sent them out together, and he had a duty to the Man. He couldn't let him die. "We'll save him." After all, the Man had saved him once, or helped anyway.  
  
"Are you listening to me?" The Dwarf was almost beside himself. "There are hundreds of orcs down there. Hundreds! And there are two, I repeat two of us!"  
  
Greenleaf waved a hand at him irritably. "We can use that to our advantage," he said.  
  
Gimli was sceptical. "Oh, really?" he asked. "Forgive me for not instantly seeing the benefits of a mob of bloodthirsty orcs. There must obviously be something wrong with me."  
  
Of course there is, Greenleaf thought, you're a bloody Dwarf. But he didn't say that thought aloud. Others, however, he did. "Well, they're not particularly friendly with each other, are they? I think we can use that." He continued to ponder their options, occasionally going to the edge of the balcony and looking around the cavern. He leaned so far over at times that Gimli was sure he would be seen, but all the attention was drawn to the pit in the centre. The orcs had become strangely hushed as they waited for Aragorn's inevitable defeat. Greenleaf winced as the Man was thrown to the floor by a particularly harsh blow from the troll.  
  
"I've got it," he said, walking back to the Dwarf. He proceeded to tell him his plan.  
  
Gimli's reactions were wide-ranging but largely negative, consisting mainly of "hmm", "what?" and "you're crazy! That'll never work!"  
  
"It has to," Greenleaf told him, heading for the stairs. "Now, you know what you're doing?"  
  
The Dwarf grunted assent, though in a way that clearly indicated his feelings. He followed the Elf down, and at the bottom they split, Gimli going left and Greenleaf right.  
  
A thousand thoughts threatened to run through the Elf's head as he went, and he resolutely shoved them back. But still a few came through. Such as what the hell was he doing? His plan was flimsy at best, relying on far too many things that he couldn't control. Greenleaf hated situations that were out of his control. Unfortunately, he seemed to have a propensity for ending up in them. Under other circumstances he wouldn't have dreamed of trying something so foolhardy. But the fact that Aragorn was out in the middle of those orcs and in terrible danger was making him act so. Had the situation been reversed, he would have expected them to have left him there to get out by himself. The information was the most important thing, and every agent knew that if push came to shove, they were expendable. However, Aragorn wasn't an Elven Secret Agent; he was a Man. Greenleaf didn't want to leave him behind –damnit, he liked him- and he had the skill to get him out. And, hopefully, the luck too.  
  
He reached another tunnel that led into the cavern, about a quarter of the way further round than they had been previously. The orcs were more closely packed here, and Greenleaf had noticed from the balcony that some of them were grouped together, discussing something angrily. The Elf was close enough to smell them, and rather wished he wasn't. It occurred to him that orcs could win battles with their smell, and he had a sudden crazy image of an orc-chieftain ordering his soldiers to flash their armpits. He was too well-trained to laugh though, and he listened to the orcs' conversation, waiting for his moment.  
  
". . .that bloody Man," one of them was saying, "I mean, who knows what he's seen here? And he ain't likely to be alone, is he?"  
  
"Dunno," another said, "he could be. There wasn't anyone with him. If there was more'n one they'd be together, right?"  
  
"Don't think they care," a third grumbled, gesturing towards the Uruk Hai in the centre, "they probably haven't even questioned him. Just chucked him in there."  
  
"Probably doin' it to try and please all us lot," the first said, "they know there's mutiny brewin' and they're trying to placate us."  
  
It was at this point that Greenleaf put part of his plan into action. Putting on his best orc-voice, he growled, "Ah, you're just jealous that you ain't up the front."  
  
The orc reacted angrily. "Jealous of those snobby bastards? Don't think so!" He glared behind him. "Which one of you said that?"  
  
He got no answer. Hidden in the shadows, Greenleaf grinned, watching the orc demanding an answer and getting more and more angry. The orcs he accused also grew angry.  
  
"I didn't say a thing!" one defended himself. "I just keep my head down, me."  
  
"Well, that's very public-spirited of you," Greenleaf muttered loudly from behind, enjoying himself thoroughly, "rest of us are doin' what we can and you're bowin' and scrapin' to them."  
  
The orc, infuriated, turned to the orc immediately at his rear, thinking that he had said it. "You shut your mouth, conk-face! It ain't nothin' like that!"  
  
The other orc took offence at the comment (though it was true that he did have a big nose). He punched the other in the face, sending him crashing into another bunch of orcs. They retaliated in kind, and soon a full-scale fight was in progress. Greenleaf stood back and watched, quite satisfied. Orcs were stupid and quick to anger, making them perfect for this sort of tactic. It wouldn't be long before the brawl spread further across the cavern, causing utter disarray. This was what Greenleaf wanted.  
  
The fighting spread in ripples. As orcs were jostled by those already fighting they shoved back, only to become involved themselves. Soon, half the orcs in the cavern were trying to punch each other's lights out. The Uruk Hai, finally realising that something was going on, tried to bring order to the chaos that was breaking out all around them, but in such an enclosed space it was impossible. The din grew louder, drowning out the roars of the cave troll. The commotion between Greenleaf and the pit was absolute; exactly what he needed.  
  
Darting forward, he snatched the grimy cloak of an orc, pulling it from its shoulders. The orc turned, but the Elf was already back out of sight. Making its own assumptions, the creature fell on those its kind that had been behind it, suspecting nothing else in the confusion. Greenleaf threw the cloak over his back, covering his bow, quiver and Elven cloak. Thus disguised, and with his knife in his hand, he moved out among the orcs, crouched over to conceal his face. He had already ensured that his hair was well tucked back under his hood; one flash of that would reveal his presence too soon. He ducked and weaved among the fighting creatures, occasionally getting hit by an elbow or fist, but ignoring them. In places he would push and shove his way through, not drawing a second look as he did. A flailing hand caught him on the cheek as an orc fell on top of him, knocking him to the ground. The orc itself was out cold, so Greenleaf pushed him off easily. But now he was on the ground among the stamping feet of the angry orcs.  
  
He rolled as one almost landed on him, pulling the orc-cloak with him. He was on his knees, curled over to avoid the orcs. It was impossible to stand again immediately; the crush of orcs above being confining. Greenleaf struck out at the legs of those closest to him, using either fist or knife. Some orcs fell back, while others kicked at the figure on the floor angrily. A few managed to connect, though not with enough force to knock the Elf over. He regained his feet, shoving through the orcs. They, assuming him to be just another one of them, ignored him and continued to address their differences with each other. It didn't take him long from there to reach the edge of the pit where the Uruk Hai stood, surveying the mêlée around them with disdain and frustration. They were taller than the orcs and stronger, and obviously above such petty brawling. Either that or too intelligent to get involved. Greenleaf noticed that one –the one that looked like it was in charge- had Aragorn's sword tucked into its belt. As a trophy, most probably.  
  
Discarding the orc-cloak, Greenleaf attacked the creature. Caught by surprise, the Uruk Hai didn't react until the Elf's knife was slipping past a weak spot in its armour, plunging into flesh. It thrashed out at him in pain and anger, but the damage had been done. As the creature fell, Greenleaf yanked the sword from its belt. Then, as the other Uruk Hai began heading his way he leapt into the pit, somersaulting once and landing gracefully on his feet. Aragorn was just struggling to his feet beside where the Elf had landed. He smiled crookedly despite his agony as Greenleaf handed him his sword. Looking up at the looming troll, the Elf hoped that the Dwarf was doing his job properly.  
  
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Gimli was having more than a little difficulty with his task. "Find something to burn," he had been told. Of course, he thought with more than a small amount of sarcasm, there're always lots of flammable things around in a mine. It's the best place to keep them, in the very place where a fire could do the most harm. Stupid Elf.  
  
He headed down one of the corridors from the cavern, checking in each room as he passed. Most were empty, though others showed signs of being lived in. Sacks and blankets littered the floor. Perfect, Gimli thought, I'll come back for those. Having reached the end of the inhabited part of the corridor, he turned back and followed another, hurrying. He could hear much more noise from the large cavern now. The Elf was obviously doing his job. Gimli wasn't going to let him be the only one doing everything; he could be as good, even better than some Elf. Keeping that thought in mind, he hurried on, scowling.  
  
The third room he looked into was the armoury, or what the orcs had converted into one. Gimli knew that it had been a storeroom before, when the Dwarves had lived in Moria, but now it was full of weapons. Pikes leaned against the walls, and mixed on the floor were swords, scimitars, shields and daggers. Bows and arrows were ranged on racks on the back wall. But it was what was by the right hand wall that interested Gimli most. Three large barrels stood there, with a pile of small black sacks beside them, all filled with something. Gimli crept into the armoury to see if his suspicions were true. He opened one of the sacks, smiling as he recognised the black gritty powder within. It would come in very useful.  
  
"Who's in 'ere?" a voice asked from the doorway. An orc stood in the doorway, squinting into the dark room. It was alone. "I know there's someone 'ere," it continued, walking into the room.  
  
Gimli wasted no time, but had his axe in his hands in seconds. It took him only slightly longer to swing the weapon in the orc's direction. It found its target in the orc's side, burying in deep and being pulled out instantly to swing again. The orc grunted, trying to knock the Dwarf back but failing. It pitched forwards, putting its neck firmly within reach of Gimli's axe. The opportunity didn't pass unused, and the sounds of first the body, then the head hitting the ground were heard. A clanging kind of squelch echoed in the room.  
  
Gimli dragged the body away from the door, grateful both for the noise of the orcs in the cavern and that they were all in there. The body was easily hidden in a dark corner, to be discovered probably at some time in the future. There seemed to be a lot of dark corners in these Mines. Gimli went back to the barrels and picked up several of the small sacks, carrying as many as he could. They were heavy, but he was stout and strong, and able to carry them. He took them back down the corridor, careful to stay in the shadows as much as possible. The sacks he held would have slowed him if he had to reach for his axe, so being spotted was not really an option. He left them in one of the handy dark corners just outside the cavern and went back to the room where he had found the empty sacks and bedding that the orcs used to sleep on. They smelt terrible, but Gimli needed them.  
  
On the way back he saw something else that would be very useful. A long ladder was half-hidden in shadow. Gimli smiled, a plan forming in his mind. He put his sacks and blankets down with the powder sacks and went back to get the ladder. It was rather awkward to carry, being long and weighty, and the only way to do this was to hold it exactly in the middle and try to keep it balanced. Luckily, there were no corners along the route, and the Dwarf got it there with the minimum of difficulty. He laid it along the floor and wrapping sacks and blankets around the wooden frame. The fighting was still going strong; hopefully distracting the rocs enough for what Gimli was planning to work. He tied the small sacks at intervals at measured intervals along the ladder, mostly near one end. The first four he tied string to the tops of, looping the string up to the top. Having finished, he dragged the creation across the floor towards the doorway into the cavern and through it.  
  
It was dark at that end, with little light from torches. All the orcs were fighting furiously and everything was confused. None of them noticed the small figure of the Dwarf, camouflaged in his Lórien cloak, as he pulled the ladder through. The furthest he could get it in was a third of its height along the floor; any further and the orcs would be stepping on it. He had already unwound the rope from his waist, attaching one end to the top of the ladder and weighting the other with a stone. He hefted the stone in his hand, gauging the distance up to the balcony above the doorway before throwing it. His aim was good, and the stone landed where he wanted it, looping the rope over the rail. Gimli wasted no time in getting up there.  
  
From above, he had a good view of the entire cavern. The fighting had led the orcs to move away from his side of the cavern, giving him what he hoped was enough room. In the centre he could see the pit where the crazy Elf and the Man were fighting the troll. Muttering to himself about the cockiness of certain Elves, Gimli picked up the rope and began pulling up the slack. Once it was taut, he heaved, bringing the loaded ladder up from the floor. It was slow going, but seemed to be successful. The darkness hid the contraption as it swayed on its way up. It was going fine until it suddenly jarred to halt. Still holding up the rope, Gimli realised what had happened. The ladder hadn't been far enough through the doorway to clear it and had jammed against the lintel. He wrapped the rope around the balcony, hitching it securely, and then hurried down.  
  
He pushed at the base of the ladder, sliding it towards the cavern. The angle of it changed drastically as he did so, hanging out above the heads of the orcs. Gimli pushed as hard and as fast as possible, hoping against hope that none would look up and see. And, miraculously, they didn't. Even if any did, there was no hope in the mêlée that they could do anything or make the others notice. As soon as he judged the ladder to be far enough out, Gimli ran up to the balcony again to pull the ladder all the way up. He unfastened the rope from the top, dropping it to the floor to be used later. The ladder was straight up against the wall, reaching a little way higher than the balcony. Gimli estimated that it would fall over halfway towards the centre of the cavern, though its impact would be far greater. He had brought a torch up from the corridor below, which he now gripped in his hand. He lit the strings leading to the small sacks, waiting for a moment before setting light to a couple of the sacks and thrusting the torch into the material. Then, with some speed, he pushed the flaming ladder outwards, letting it fall towards the battling orcs. Snatching the rope up, he ran from the balcony.  
  
A loud explosion boomed out, followed quickly by another. Shrieks and roars arose from the orcs, mingled with the sound of falling rock. There were stampedes of orcs from all the exits. Gimli stood aside to let them pass, not wanting to become trampled beneath their heavy feet. He peered out as the flow of the creatures lessened.  
  
Right, he thought. Now to get that Elf out.  
  
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Notes on the use of blasting powder: As I'm sure you know, Tolkien referred to "a blasting fire" in the books, and this was shown in the films as a black powder that when lit would explode, used to blow the Deeping Wall at Helm's Deep. I coupled this with Bond's seeming propensity for blowing everything up and that led to explosions aplenty. Huzzah! 


	5. Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: On a lighter note, though I have referred to the troll here as "it", the troll in FOTR is definitely male. I kid you not, when you see that creature without the loincloth (as the model shows in the exhibition at the Science Museum, London) it has what I can only describe as "nadgers".  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: hmm, just imagine an intelligence test between Aragorn and the troll. Question: You see an enemy. What do you do? Troll: Hit it with big club. Aragorn: hit it with big sword. No differentiation there then.  
  
Nemo Returning: I am rather proud of that one. Funnily enough, the image in my mind was of the elephants in the Jungle Book.  
  
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Chapter 5. Between A Rock And A Hard Place  
  
"Are you all right?" Greenleaf called, watching as the troll approached.  
  
"Been better," Aragorn replied, readying his sword.  
  
That was the only chance for conversation they had. The troll gave a roar and attacked its new prey. Its fist slammed down with devastating force, but Greenleaf had already moved, leaping to the side. There was a small crater left as the troll lifted its arm again. Its eyes squinted as it tried to understand what had just happened. The Elf didn't give it time to do so. He slashed at the creature's leg across the back of the knee, drawing a growl of agony from it. Its arms swung, but again missed him. Infuriated, it turned back to easier prey: Aragorn. The Man's injuries prevented him from moving fast enough to avoid the troll, and Greenleaf could see it. He ran at the troll, springing up to grab its iron collar. The creature reared as Greenleaf braced himself on the creature's back. He clung on, being tossed from side to side dizzyingly as the troll tried to shake him off.  
  
Greenleaf stabbed at the back of its neck with his knife, but his blade glanced off its thick skin. The troll swiped at the Elf on its head as if trying to dislodge a particularly annoying fly. One of its hands caught Greenleaf on the side, throwing him off and onto the floor. He landed like a cat, spinning to face the troll as he did. It roared and charged towards him. He dodged, but unwittingly led it towards Aragorn. The Man was leaning against the wall of the pit, clutching his chest and breathing rapidly. The troll lumbered towards them, fury in its tiny little eyes. Sharing a quick glance, Man and Elf dived in different directions. Aragorn swore as his body crashed into the floor, and the troll turned his way. It raised its arm high; meaning to slam its fist down on the Man. Greenleaf saw his opportunity and darted forward.  
  
He stabbed at the troll's armpit, wrinkling his nose at the smell. It bellowed and swung round to face the Elf. He had already moved back, forcing the troll to come after him and leave the Man. The wounds Greenleaf had inflicted seemed only to irritate it, much to his disgust. He stood his ground, readying his stance to meet the creature. It towered over him. The only thing Greenleaf could remember about trolls was their stupidity, but he couldn't see how to use this to his advantage at this particular moment. There wasn't really much opportunity to engage it in conversation. He stood steadily as it approached.  
  
It was then that Gimli sent his flaming contraption down onto the orcs. The first explosion, and the second shortly after seemed to rock the cavern. Greenleaf stumbled, thrown off for a second in disorientation. The troll –being several moments behind events and unaffected by the explosion- chose that moment to strike. It grabbed Greenleaf by the leg and swung him into the air. He was spun in circles around the troll's head like some toy being played with. Kicking out with his free foot, he connected with its face but it was like kicking stone. Its skin was too think and solid. Aragorn looked up from his position on the floor, watching with horror. He pushed himself to his feet, gasping at the pain, and lifted his sword. With a cry, he plunged it into the troll's ankle with all his might.  
  
The creature roared, lifting its foot and trying to stamp on the Man. He dodged backwards, almost tripping. The troll let go of Greenleaf to go for Aragorn with both hands, sending the Elf flying across the pit. He hit the wall and fell awkwardly to the ground, where he rolled as he landed. Everything was spinning around him, the floor heaving like the sea as he tried to stand. Before him he could see Aragorn facing the troll, but it all seemed rather blurred. The Man dodged again as a fist came down and sliced down with his sword as it did, lacerating its knuckles. The troll was becoming steadily angrier as it failed to get its Man, roaring and bellowing its frustrations. It lumbered forwards, but even injured Aragorn could outpace it. The only problem he had was running out of space, which he rapidly seemed to be doing. A fist slammed down, which he avoided, but then another did, and he was trapped between them. He looked up at the gleaming rage-filled eyes above him.  
  
"Hey! Over here!" a voice yelled from behind the creature. Greenleaf, having regained enough of a sense of balance to stand, was trying to get its attention. His ploy worked; the troll swung round with a confused grunt. Aragorn leapt over its hand and out of its way. It didn't notice, but stared at the Elf.  
  
"Hey, ugly!" Greenleaf shouted. "Up there!" He pointed upwards, bow in his other hand. The troll frowned and looked where he pointed. It was a big mistake on its part. Seconds later it fell to the ground with a colossal thump, an arrow protruding from its throat. Greenleaf was at Aragorn's side in moments.  
  
"That Dwarf should be here any second," he said. He helped the Man to sit and then cast an experienced eye over his wounds. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth and bruises were beginning to purple on his face. Anything else Greenleaf couldn't see, but from the way the Man held himself there were worse injuries hidden. The Elf straightened, narrowing his eyes as he gazed through smoke and sniffing. Where did the Dwarf get the blasting powder from?  
  
"Elf!" The call came from above, the edge of the pit. Greenleaf looked up and saw the bearded face of the Dwarf. A rope fell down, landing at the Elf's feet.  
  
"It's secure up here," Gimli called, tugging at the rope to prove his point, "get up here now before the fire consumes all the air!"  
  
Greenleaf nodded, and turned to Aragorn. The Man didn't look like he'd make it up the rope. His face was pale and his breathing shallow. Greenleaf knelt beside him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "this will hurt." He picked up the Man, balancing him over his shoulder and trying to avoid aggravating any injuries. Aragorn groaned, and Greenleaf muttered another apology before standing slowly and going to the wall. He gripped the rope in both hands. "Grab my waist," he instructed, and felt the Man's arms wrap hesitantly around him. "And just hang on," he said, pulling himself up. The climb was about twice as high as the troll had been, and took the Elf longer that it would have normally, due to the additional weight of the Man. His muscles strained as he hauled hand over hand, making his way upwards slowly. Palms began to tingle uncomfortably as the rope rubbed against them. His face showed it. The situation he was in, the weight of the Man on his shoulder, the ever-thickening smoke; all was reflected in his tightly arched brows and set mouth. It seemed to take forever, but finally he reached the top, pointedly not taking Gimli's help. All around was smoke and confusion. Flames filled one end of the cavern, cutting off that side. Orcs were staggering about, dazed by the earlier blasts, but more were coming in, armed and angry. Luckily, they were finding it hard to see through the smoke.  
  
"This way!" Gimli said, tugging at Greenleaf's arm. "Let's get out of here before they work out what's going on."  
  
The Elf nodded, resenting the Dwarf's bossiness but still mindful of the Man over his shoulder. They ran across the cavern, Greenleaf being as careful as he could not to jostle Aragorn. The smoke began to burn in his lungs, and he wondered whether that was the feeling people got when smoking pipeweed. If so, he couldn't for the life of him see why they would want to. He coughed a little, his throat itching. A sudden roar from behind alerted them that the orcs had seen their escape. Black arrows began to fall around them as Gimli led them to a small tunnel in the cavern wall. Greenleaf stared at it. He'd never be able to carry Aragorn through that; the opening was too small.  
  
"You'll have to crawl," he told the Man abruptly, setting him down, "Gimli, help him." He pushed him into the tunnel. "I'll be along in a minute," he called after them, pulling his bow from his back and fitting an arrow to the string. The orcs approached fast, but not so fast that Greenleaf couldn't fell several with his arrows. Further explosions shook the cavern as he dived into the tunnel. A last arrow winged past his head as rocks began to fall around him. He scrambled along the narrow way, hugging his bow to his chest as he did. Falling chunks of ceiling hit him painfully. At least none of the orcs would be able to follow, he realised. Complete darkness surrounded him and the ground still trembled. He hurried on, intent on catching up his companions. It didn't take long: Aragorn's injuries slowed him down quite a bit. His breathing was loud and harsh in the small space.  
  
Greenleaf came up behind him, just in time to catch the Man as he collapsed. Gimli looked back worriedly.  
  
"The tunnel comes out just up here," he said, taking Aragorn's shoulders. Greenleaf took his legs and together they heaved the Man through the rest of the narrow tunnel. It was hard going, as the way was too small to accommodate even a Dwarf comfortably, and Greenleaf was bent over in a most awkward position, completely the wrong one for carrying someone of Aragorn's weight. The muscles in his back were beginning to ache as they left the tunnel, straightening up in a small hall.  
  
"Where to now?" he asked, checking on the Man. Aragorn's eyes were still closed and his breathing shallow. His skin was clammy.  
  
"Give me a moment," Gimli muttered, walking across the hall. Greenleaf's head snapped up.  
  
"Don't you know where we are?" he demanded.  
  
"I'll remember," the Dwarf defended, "just wait a bit." He went over to one of the entrances and peered through it. It was, predictably, dark.  
  
Greenleaf stood and strode over. "You'd better get us out of here, Dwarf," he hissed, using his height as much as possible, "that's what you're here for."  
  
"You mean there's something you can't do?" Gimli asked viciously. Greenleaf shot a glare at him. "And I thought all you Elves were perfect," the Dwarf continued. "I know where we are, I just need to remember which way it is from here. You can't do anything except get out of my face."  
  
They stared each other down, neither wanting to back away. A moan came from Aragorn, and Greenleaf broke off unwillingly to see to him. Having got the Man this far he wasn't going to lose him now. Aragorn was still unconscious, but his face was screwed up and he was moving restlessly. Fearing he would aggravate his injuries, Greenleaf took hold of the Man, trying to keep him still. While Gimli strode about the hall, muttering to himself, Greenleaf spoke to the Man in an attempt to calm him.  
  
"Sh, Aragorn, take it easy, my friend," he said, his hands on the other's arms, "you'll be fine, don't worry. We'll get you out of here in no time." He glared at the Dwarf. "In no time," he repeated, trying to convince himself more than anything. He pulled Aragorn closer, murmuring further platitudes as he did. It seemed to work; the Man calmed when he was in the Elf's arms.  
  
"I know where we're going," Gimli said, coming up behind the Elf. His tone was unapologetic.  
  
"What is the route like?" Greenleaf asked, still looking at Aragorn. Carrying him through narrow tunnels would be awkward and only pain the Man further.  
  
"Mostly wide and easy to walk," Gimli replied, understanding the Elf's concern, "but the last part will be small and difficult. I will help you with him there."  
  
But I must carry him otherwise, Greenleaf acknowledged to himself. It made sense. The Dwarf was too small to carry Aragorn's long body; he didn't have the height to keep the Man from trailing on the ground. Greenleaf, however, did. Letting go of Aragorn for the moment, he loosened the strap on his quiver, allowing it to hang low on his back. He rehung his bow on it. Then, very carefully, he lifted the Man from the floor and draped the limp body over his shoulders. Aragorn's head hung down by the left side of Greenleaf's chest. The Elf stoically tried to ignore the Man's moans, but the worry still gripped him inside. He stood slowly, gradually accustoming himself to the weight. He held Aragorn steady.  
  
"Lead the way," he told Gimli. The Dwarf nodded and made his way to the corridor leading out of one end of the hall. Greenleaf followed.  
  
It was, as Gimli had said, an easy path. They went along it as fast as possible. Aragorn's legs swung by Greenleaf's side, even though the Elf held them. Greenleaf stayed close to the Dwarf, not wishing to lose him in the darkness. He was directly behind Gimli, and could hear clearly the jingle of his chain mail and the snorts of his breathing. The heat of the Man pressed on his shoulders and his smell was close to the Elf. Greenleaf could detect the vestiges of fear among the sweat and blood, and he looked at the lax face that was so close to his. The faint light provided by occasional torches allowed him to see the almost corpse-like visage. He had a few horrible moments when he thought that the Man was dead and all he had over his shoulders was a lifeless corpse, but his fears were allayed by the rasping breaths and odd moans. A little blood dripped from the corner of the slack mouth, landing on Greenleaf's sleeve. Aragorn's head bobbed up and down grotesquely with the Elf's strides. Suddenly, ahead of Greenleaf, Gimli stopped abruptly. Greenleaf walked into him, not expecting it.  
  
"What the-?" he managed to ask, but Gimli held up a hand for silence. Scowling, Greenleaf adjusted the Man's weight on his shoulders as he stood there.  
  
"This way," the Dwarf said eventually, pulling Greenleaf after him down to the right into another corridor.  
  
Greenleaf kept his peace and followed. He would take up the issue later, when they weren't still in mortal danger. Right now, Aragorn was depending on him, and starting an argument would make the situation far worse. They hurried on in silence, the only sound being the clump of Gimli's boots and the light step of Greenleaf. The Elf looked around warily. It was far too quiet for his liking. There could be a perfectly rational explanation; he knew that, maybe the orcs didn't come this far. Greenleaf didn't know; he was utterly disorientated by the caves, not knowing where he was at all. Combined with the unnerving silence, it was making him twitchy. He didn't like being twitchy. It wasn't his style.  
  
A sound from behind made him look round. It was a scraping sound, like metal against rock. It was only heard for an instant, and Greenleaf doubted that Gimli, with his dull Dwarven ears, would have heard it. He stopped for a moment, touching the Dwarf's shoulder with one hand. Gimli stopped too, seeing the urgency in the Elf's tense face in the faint light.  
  
"There's something behind us," Greenleaf whispered, crouching to be at the Dwarf's height, "they're trying to be quiet, but I heard them."  
  
"We turn off just up here," Gimli replied. His face was hidden in shadow but his tone was completely serious and professional. "If we can get there without being seen. . ."  
  
"There's no torches for a while along this stretch," Greenleaf commented, "we'll have to be silent."  
  
The Dwarf said nothing more, but Greenleaf sensed his assent. They both crept along the corridor. Occasionally Greenleaf would hear noises from behind: the clank of metal, the tap of footsteps, a harsh exhalation of breath. Gimli's hand touched his arm, guiding him left into another corridor. The ground was rockier and more uneven, causing Greenleaf to stumble slightly. It was only a small misstep, one that ordinarily wouldn't have mattered, but the movement jarred Aragorn's injuries. He, still unaware and unconscious, moaned in pain.  
  
Greenleaf heard the twang and the rush of air behind him, despite him cursing the Man inside his head using every foul word he could think of –which, incidentally, was quite a few, as many of the people he met in foreign places seemed not to like getting hurt. He stepped to the side, but not far enough. The arrow grazed his side, spilling warm blood in its wake. Greenleaf hissed, and then Gimli was at his side pulling him down the corridor. For some reason he trusted the Dwarf's judgement, and allowed himself to be dragged.  
  
"We'll have to fight them off," the dwarf told him, "because we'll never get through the way fast enough."  
  
"What about Aragorn?" Greenleaf asked.  
  
"We can leave him partway up the tunnel," Gimli said, "it's just here." He led the Elf to a small opening in the corridor wall. "Hurry, they're coming!"  
  
Greenleaf said nothing, but eased Aragorn off of his shoulders. He crawled as best he could a little way up the tunnel, which sloped steeply. He was glad that the Man was unconscious really, as with his injuries it would have been even harder to get him up there. It was small, dark and cramped. Greenleaf found a small alcove and managed to lay Aragorn in it.  
  
"Just stay here," he whispered, "please. You'll be fine, I promise. I'll be back soon." He touched Aragorn's forehead gently, and then went back, hurrying to the bottom of the tunnel.  
  
The orcs were attacking by the time he got there. He left the tunnel unseen, and began his counterattack on the other side of the corridor. Gimli was already fighting, swinging his axe in vicious circles. Their opponents were orcs, a fairly large group of them, piling at the Elf and the Dwarf with weapons high. It was too close-quarter for Greenleaf to use his bow, so he could only use his knife. He dodged and ducked, using speed rather than brute force to kill them. A few of the orcs carried torches, their flickering light not particularly helping the fight either way. They roared as they fought. It was a confusing battle, impossible to see exactly what was happening. The confined space made it even worse.  
  
Greenleaf was separated from Gimli, unable to see him. He was fighting almost blind, using his other senses instead. But even they were not infallible. A scimitar glanced off his arm, drawing blood. He slew the orc that had wielded it with a quick slash of his knife, felling it efficiently. Even as he did though, another took its place, bigger and uglier than the first. He was becoming surrounded by the creatures, and there seemed to be no end to their numbers. Greenleaf felt the first rising of panic within himself, the feeling that they'd never defeat all the orcs. He quashed the feeling as quickly as he could. He couldn't afford to fail now! Gritting his teeth, he continued to fight with all the skill he could muster.  
  
But against their numbers, it was like trying to cut the wind. He stayed low for the most part, hoping that in the darkness the amount of orcs would become a disadvantage to them and they would end up harming each other. Yet it seemed that even if they did there would still be more. Of course, it was probably the enclosed space making it seem that way; there probably weren't actually that many, but still enough to kill him and Gimli. He wondered how long they'd been following them, whether they'd sent back for reinforcements and whether they'd realise where Aragorn was. For the first, it depended on how well the orcs knew the Mines as to whether they'd been pursued all the way from the troll pit or simply been spotted by a random group who'd just happened to be nearby. For now that point didn't really matter; it was the others that did, though Greenleaf had no way of answering them now.  
  
He was fighting for his life. A clawed hand grasped at his hood and pulled it back, revealing the golden hair. Hisses and growls echoed around as the orcs realised that it was an Elf they fought. Their attacks came with greater ferocity, pressing him back and down. These orcs –with a couple of Uruk-hai among them- were very well trained. Sauron probably had a training facility somewhere, having realised that sheer weight of numbers wasn't good when the soldiers were as thick as the walls they threw themselves at. A harsh blow caught Greenleaf across the back of the head, sending him to his knees, momentarily dazed. Two orcs grabbed him by the arms and dragged him with them, away from the semi-lit area of the corridor. He tried to regain his feet, but as they ran faster he couldn't. Other orcs ran beside, jeering.  
  
Greenleaf couldn't see a thing of where he was or where he was going. His knife had been knocked from his hand and the orcs held him securely. The only part of him free was his legs. He lifted them and swung them out before him, curving both in a graceful kick straight into the face of the orc on his left. The creature cursed in its foul tongue but didn't loosen its grip one bit. With the arm not holding the Elf it reached over and gave him an almighty clout across the face, smacking him on the cheek with the metal gauntlet it wore. Greenleaf slumped, knocked out for the moment. The orcs ran on, their feet pounding and thumping on the rocky floor.  
  
When Greenleaf opened his eyes again, he didn't know whether he'd been out for seconds, minutes, or even hours. Everything seemed the same; black, dark and disorientating. Twisting his head, he counted five orcs, more from the sound of their feet than anything else. Damn it, he could take five measly orcs! Focussing all his will, he had a second go at the kick he had tried earlier, but with a different technique. He spread his legs, one for the orc on the left and one for the orc on the right, and kicked up with all speed. He caught them both under the chin where the gap in their armour was, then flung his legs upwards, snapping their heads back. They dropped him with cries of pain. He landed easily, hands going instantly behind to pull two arrows from his quiver. He didn't want his bow; in this situation shooting orcs in the dark was more than a metaphor. Instead he plunged both into the throats of the two orcs beside him, yanking them out again straight after. The other three orcs rushed into the fray, but in the dark they found it difficult. The Elf was soundless, as tricky to catch as a beam of light, darting and diving this way and that. It was not long before they too were lying dead.  
  
Greenleaf walked a little way down the corridor, and then realised that he didn't have a clue where he was going. The way he had been dragged had been full of twists and turns, and in the darkness he had seen none of them. He felt faintly dizzy from the knocks on the head and the whole awful realisation was just spilling into his mind. He was stranded in the deep, convoluted Mines of Moria, and he had no idea where to go now.  
  
Greenleaf was lost, alone, and beginning to feel more than a little afraid.  
  
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	6. Some Means of Escape

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Despite my watching 'Casualty' (on BBC) almost religiously, I am no trained medical professional. Don't try these medical practices at home. If I had been there Aragorn wouldn't have survived, I can't even keep woodlice alive in jars.  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: as if I'd bash you over the head...only when provoked. And here's your update. On time, miraculously. And he's not lost, he's geographically dislocated.  
  
Nemo Returning: Elf-magic? To be honest, I'm never sure how much magic the Elves have. Not finger-clicking good (sorry, irresistible pun) style anyway. And what an unholy image of Legolas in a round pair of glasses...though Snape-style robes maybe.  
  
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Chapter 6. Some Means of Escape  
  
Greenleaf shivered suddenly, not really feeling the cold of the Mines but reacting to it all the same. What he had said earlier –about not being afraid of caves- was true, but didn't quite extend to his current situation. The caves of Mirkwood were a far cry from these huge, soulless Mines. There was no life to them, and the fields where the Sun walked were a long way away. He felt uncomfortably vulnerable, blind in the blackness around him. Without really thinking about it he retightened the straps of his quiver, settling it snugly in its familiar place against his back. He touched his bow, reassuring himself of its presence. Then his fingers moved to his knife sheath, which hung empty from his belt. He gripped it for a moment, squeezing the leather in a nervous movement. Noticing what he was doing, he let go, consciously holding his hands still by his sides.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, he listened. He really had no idea what to do, and this made him feel helpless. He hated this. The Mines around him were mostly silent, oppressively so. There was water in the distance that he could hear, but nothing else. There was far too much rock around for his tastes, and he wished that he was out of it. If he got out –no, when he got out, damn it- he would never set foot in these Valar-forsaken Mines again. Not for the first time, he wondered why the hell anyone would build or live in a place like this. He cursed every last Dwarf on Middle-earth, every Dwarf that ever had been and every Dwarf who would be. Having done this, he felt a little better, but the feeling soon passed.  
  
A few drips fell suddenly away to his left and caused him to jump, body tensing. He forced himself to calm down and not panic. He couldn't afford to panic; he'd only get out if he kept a clear head. But it was difficult. He simply couldn't forget where he was, how dark it was, how lost he was, how much rock there was, and that he was very, very lost. Another faint sound made him start, and again he berated himself. It was no good getting spooked. He needed to get out of these caves before he went mad, but he couldn't for the life of him think of how. It was ridiculous; he was a highly-trained agent who had been in many impossible situations before and had always got out of them. But this, this was horrendously worse. As hard as he tried to snap out of it, he found that he couldn't. He was, he admitted unwillingly, scared.  
  
Slowly, unconsciously, he sank down to the floor. He huddled there, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them. The rocks of the wall pressed against his back. In his fear, imagination began to take over. All sorts of thoughts began a parade through his head, mocking and taunting him. Sounds seemed to come from all around: laughter, jeers, snorts and growls. They were so real to Greenleaf, almost convincing him that he was surrounded by a myriad of odd creatures. Even though it was pitch black he didn't dare lift his head to look. His breathing sped up, his heart racing as cold hands seemed to brush across him, but there was nothing there. He was actually panicking. He tried, desperately, to tell himself that there was nothing there, that he would be fine. But he wouldn't listen, not even to himself, and eventually he screamed.  
  
Enough!  
  
The echoes of his shout faded away into the empty blackness. He shot to his feet, pressing his hands against the wall. There was no one else here, no mysterious voices, no nightmare monsters that used to live under the bed. He was alone. But as good as it was meant to sound, the thought brought no comfort. Alone meant that although he wouldn't face death by horrors unknown, the odds on him dying lost and starved in a distant cave were high, or at least he thought so. The image of him lying alone in a dark corner, far from the light and warmth of the sun and the beauty of the stars, slowly starving to death in a place he hated flashed into his mind. It was not one he wanted, but it wouldn't be moved. He had to get out of here!  
  
The problem was that he didn't know how. He didn't know where he was to start with, and wandering around would only make it worse. All he knew was that the orcs he had killed were up to his left, but other than that he knew nothing. The fight itself had thrown off his sense of direction, and he didn't even know where he had come from. Setting his jaw firmly, he began to follow the wall, touching it with his fingers, towards where the orcs' bodies were. His feet hit the first corpse. He stilled at first, half- expecting the creature to leap up and attack him. But it was dead, and he knew it. He stepped over it, following the wall on. Mere inches on, it vanished. Empty air met his fingers.  
  
Perfectly calm, he reached back to where the wall stopped. He gripped it and slid his foot forward. The floor continued, so it was obviously another possible path. So that gave him at least three different options. He put his back to the wall for a moment, and then walked forward at a right angle to it, directly across the corridor. He held out his arms before him, going slowly and carefully. Rock brushed his fingertips and he stopped. Mimicking his earlier actions, he followed the wall, not at all surprised when it stopped suddenly. The spot he was on, the one where he had killed the orcs, was on a crossroads. He swore loudly. Of all the places! He now had four options, just at this one point. No matter which way he chose, there would be more choices further along, and then yet more. There was no way he could get back to Aragorn and Gimli. He simply didn't know where to go.  
  
He growled angrily –though whether it was against himself, the situation or just everything was not apparent- and slammed his fists into the rock. It hurt, and he resolved not to do it again. It was unnecessary, only wasting energy that would be better used in getting out, if only he knew how to apply it. It was entirely frustrating. If he had had light, he could have tracked the way he had been dragged, but he was in pitch darkness. Feeling for a trail would be impossible, and listening had proved futile. So, like a hunting dog, he sniffed at the air, hoping to detect something, anything. But all that assailed him was the sour, foetid smell of orcs. No matter which way he went, it smelt of orcs. It even overlaid the smell of the Dwarves, a feat that Greenleaf would have thought impossible. Unwillingly, he admitted that right now he would be glad to smell a Dwarf, provided it was alive and would lead him out of there. All there was in his nostrils was orcs, that familiar malodorous stench. Reflecting, he realised that killing the orcs earlier had been a mistake. They must have known where they were going. He had been killing orcs for so long that it had become second nature. It was a depressing thought.  
  
He sat despondently on the floor, fiddling worriedly with his tunic. Part of it was wet, on the arm, and he felt along to find out why. He soon remembered. The cut across his arm stung as he probed it, and he winced. He decided to leave it be and returned to the situation. He had looked, or tried to, listened, felt and smelt. That only left one thing, and Greenleaf was damned if he was going to lick the floor. It wouldn't help anyway. He curled his legs under him, not knowing what to do next. His head was beginning to pound uncomfortably. He rubbed his temples tiredly, trying to alleviate it. The dark, damp Mines were pressing down on his spirits heavily.  
  
A quiet sound caught his ears. It was a tapping, familiar sound. Footsteps! It had to be. The taps were mostly rhythmic, and would occasionally pause or slow. For a sudden, horrible instant Greenleaf thought he might be getting hopeful over a few drips of water, but the taps were getting louder. There was definitely someone, or something coming his way, and he was going to follow them away from this accursed part of the Mines. If the Dwarf had any sense he wouldn't be waiting, though the thought of the stubby being dragging the Man along that tunnel made Greenleaf worry. When he had got out, or at least got his bearings, he would go back for them, or try to anyway. But he was no expert in caves.  
  
He sprang to his feet, moving lightly to the edge of the corridor. He'd be able to follow whatever it was without detection. Their footsteps were more than loud enough to mask the sounds of his. They came closer, approaching along the corridor in which he stood, not bothering to try and see them; it was too dark. Too late he remembered the orc bodies littered across the floor, and cursed himself as the footsteps stopped and their owner gave a surprised grunt. Greenleaf pressed against the wall, waiting for what they would do. From the sound of it, they were feeling over the bodies, giving a faint grunt each time they found a new one.  
  
"Well, this'll be them," they said suddenly, in a deep voice that Greenleaf instantly recognised, "and arrows in them too."  
  
It was the damn Dwarf!  
  
"Only question is," Gimli continued, "where's that blasted Elf? It would be just like a flighty creature such as him to wander off and get himself lost!"  
  
Greenleaf's eyes narrowed dangerously. That was it. The Dwarf was going to pay for that one. It was very easy to pinpoint Gimli's position from the sound of his breathing. Greenleaf simply leapt out, knocking the Dwarf to the ground and pinning him there. He wasn't trying to hurt him –G would have his head for that- but just to scare him. Gimli let out several impressive sounding curses in Dwarvish, which Greenleaf didn't know or understand but wished he did. He just smiled and held the other down. Gimli was shouting.  
  
"Get off me, you. . ."  
  
"Flighty creature?" Greenleaf finished. Gimli went still beneath him.  
  
"Why, you!" he growled. "Let me up, Master Elf!"  
  
Greenleaf did so, though he didn't offer a hand to help. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he heard the Dwarf brushing himself off.  
  
"Finding you," Gimli answered, "I thought that much would be obvious. Do you think I can carry a huge great Man out of here on my own?"  
  
The Dwarf's logic was sound, Greenleaf had to admit. But something else worried him. "Where is Aragorn?"  
  
"Where you left him. I couldn't get him out so I figured it would be safer to leave him there; he's well hidden." Gimli's tone was defiant.  
  
Greenleaf didn't comment, but the Dwarf was right. "What about the orcs?"  
  
"Dead. All of them."  
  
"Good." He hadn't meant to compliment Gimli, but he was impressed despite himself. "Let's get back." He didn't ask how Gimli had found him, and Gimli made no other remark.  
  
They walked through the corridors, taking many forks and turns along the way. Greenleaf knew he would never have done it alone. He had retrieved his arrows from the bodies of the orcs, and he cleaned them with a rag as he walked. He replaced them in his quiver as they reached a lit torch bracketed to the wall. Greenleaf blinked. After all the time he had been in the dark it was uncomfortably bright, even though the flames were small and the light it cast relatively dim.  
  
"It's just up here," Gimli said, continuing up the corridor. He walked through a scattered pile of orc corpses. "I moved them," he explained, "in case any others turned up."  
  
Greenleaf nodded. Inwardly, he was furious at being left in the dark for so long, but that was only a small part of him. He knew that Gimli had done the logical and right thing.  
  
The tunnel itself was round a corner, hidden in darkness. No other orcs seemed to have appeared on the scene, and even if any had been watching it was unlikely that they would have seen the Elf and the Dwarf slipping from shadow to tunnel. The pair hurried up the steep, narrow incline, grazing knees, elbows and hands as they went. Aragorn was exactly where Greenleaf had left him, tucked into a corner. His breathing was fast and rapid, and when Greenleaf felt his forehead it was damp and clammy. The Man was feverish, and it wasn't a good sign. He would need urgent attention when they reached Lothlórien. They could not afford any further delay.  
  
Working together, the Elf and the Dwarf carried the Man up the tunnel, an awkward task in the tiny space. Greenleaf knocked his head against the rock a couple of times. Even Gimli scraped his helmet once or twice. Aragorn's breath hitched every now and then, making Greenleaf's heart jump each time. Biting his lip, he determinedly pushed his emotions aside, trying to concentrate on getting the Man out rather than wincing every time he moaned. Claustrophobia pressed in on the Elf, despite his attempts to ignore it. We're on our way out, he told himself, just think of that. We'll be out of here soon, outside in the trees and on our way to Lórien. Hopefully he'd never have to return to Moria again, not if he had anything to do with it.  
  
Light began to filter down from behind Gimli. Greenleaf smiled a little. Light was hope. He'd been down in the dark for far too long, but he hadn't realised before how much he missed the sun. The Mines were an endless night, without the comfort of stars and moon. He was glad to be out. Even the Dwarf had to be, he reasoned. No creature, even stubby little rock- hewers, could like that place, full of orcs and Valar knew what else. Eventually, through much heaving and cursing, Greenleaf and Gimli carried Aragorn out under the sunshine and into the woods.  
  
It was late morning; they had been in the Mines all night. The day was beautiful, with clear blue skies and little wind. Greenleaf took Aragorn fully into his arms, relieving the Dwarf of the burden. The Man stirred slightly, but remained unconscious. It was for the best really. They hurried through the trees, heading for where they had left their packs and the horses.  
  
"The orcs probably won't follow us," Greenleaf said as they went, "even supposing they think we've escaped. They won't be out in the day."  
  
"What about the Uruk-hai?" Gimli asked.  
  
The Elf thought for a moment, being wary for traps as he walked. "I don't think there're enough of them," he answered finally. "They know we'll be heading straight for Lórien, and it would take them too long to get enough of the Uruk-hai together to form a decent-sized force. And they don't seem to be getting along too well," he continued, more thinking out loud than anything, "there's two different groups, I think. There's Sauron's lot from Mordor, with the red eye device painted on, and there's the ones with another symbol. I didn't get close enough to see."  
  
"It was a white hand," Gimli said, "and they seemed the bigger and more powerful, though there're less of them."  
  
"That's Saruman's device." Greenleaf frowned.  
  
"But I thought he was dead," Gimli said, "after he was discovered breeding an army of Uruk-hai."  
  
"Aye, in Orthanc." Greenleaf's face was cold, a mask. "I killed him myself, and most of his army too. Any that survived were brought down by the Riders of Rohan." The Elf pondered a little. "I suppose some of his Uruk-hai would already have been sent on to Mordor. But they have still kept their old symbol. I wonder why?"  
  
"A matter of pride, I suppose," Gimli replied. "Trying to appear different from the throng, being the elite group."  
  
They reached the small clearing where Shadowfax and Hasufel still waited. The dark-grey horse whinnied in agitation at his master's prone form. Greenleaf patted him on the nose as he went to fetch the packs from the tree. "Peace, Hasufel," he comforted, "he will be well soon enough." I will see to it, he added silently.  
  
Aragorn was laid out on the grass, and Gimli knelt by his head making sure he was calm. Greenleaf examined the Man's injuries as best he could. Things looked worse in the light than he had seen down in the Mines. He undid the cloak from Aragorn's neck, dropping it onto the ground. There was blood soaking through the tunic beneath.  
  
"Here," Gimli's gruff voice said. Greenleaf looked up. The Dwarf was holding out the Elf's silver-handled knife. "I found it after that fight with the orcs," he explained.  
  
"Thank you," Greenleaf said, taking it. He had thought it lost. It was warm from being tucked in Gimli's belt. Hoping he wouldn't catch anything from it, he used it to slice open Aragorn's tunic. The chest he exposed was bloody and bruised. With two more cuts and undoing the Man's belt he removed the tunic completely. Remembering his training under Lord Elrond, Greenleaf did a quick assessment. At least four broken ribs, almost certain internal damage, various severities of contusions, a broken collarbone, a fractured forearm on the same side and multiple lacerations. The Elf reached for his bandages and set to work, getting Gimli to assist by lifting the Man up enough to wrap the bandages round him. When Greenleaf had finished, most of Aragorn's upper body was covered in bandages. A sling held his fractured right arm across his chest, immobilising the broken collarbone as well.  
  
That done, he moved to the legs. He carefully felt down each one, checking them thoroughly. One, the left, was fine, but the right was clearly broken at least twice in the lower leg.  
  
"I need a few fairly sturdy branches to splint this," Greenleaf told the Dwarf. It wasn't exactly worded as an order, possibly being why Gimli stood without complaint to fetch them.  
  
He returned within a few minutes carrying five of the straightest limbs he could find without hacking them off the trees. Greenleaf had already decided against removing Aragorn's boot; it would probably further aggravate the injury. The breaks were clean and were fairly easily pressed into place, though Greenleaf was glad that Aragorn stayed unconscious throughout. He laid the branches, with a brief nod of thanks to Gimli, alongside the leg, and then pulled a blanket from one of the packs. It was already worn and tattered, and he had no compunction as he ripped it into strips. Using these he bound the wood into a splint round Aragorn's leg. It held firm.  
  
Greenleaf sat back on his heels, still looking concerned. Gimli was again kneeling by the Man's head, stroking the fevered brow. Greenleaf watched him for a moment. It seemed amazing to him that a rough creature such as a Dwarf could be so caring. As far as he had been concerned, no Dwarf had ever been capable of tenderness. It was what he had always known; Dwarves were aggressive, angry and non-negotiable. What he saw now seemed completely wrong and contrary, but in an odd way it seemed right.  
  
Greenleaf scowled and moved over to his pack. He didn't want to part with his prejudices; he had had them for a long time and they were closer than most friends. He opened the pack, pushing aside some of the contents. His head ached and other injuries made themselves known, but he ignored them stoically. They would wait until they were all safe in Lórien. He pulled out a black pouch and took out the palantír from within. He laid the pouch on the ground and placed the palantír on top. He touched it gently, feeling the cold glass.  
  
"Agent 0011 calling Lothlórien," he said, a little self-consciously. He repeated his message and watched as the device cleared.  
  
"Lothlórien here, U speaking," a voice replied. The wizard's face appeared, obviously leaning over one of the MIRRORs. "Hello, 0011. How're you doing?"  
  
"We're on our way back," Greenleaf said, "just about to leave the Dale. Aragorn's badly injured; he had a fight with a cave troll. He'll need urgent medical attention as soon as we get in."  
  
"Got that," U answered, less jovial now, "he's in luck. Lord Elrond's still here. Did you accomplish your mission?"  
  
"Of course." Greenleaf smiled softly. "Would you expect any different?"  
  
"Oh, no." U smiled too, then frowned as his beard brushed across the surface of the MIRROR and the image rippled, fragmenting into many pieces before reforming. "Be seeing you. U out."  
  
The palantír went black. Greenleaf replaced it in the pack along with everything else and fastened the bag. He stood and collected the other two packs, carrying them over to Hasufel. The horse stood patiently as the Elf loaded him with the packs. His nose nudged Greenleaf's shoulder gently and got an affectionate pat in return.  
  
"We must ride for Lórien with all speed," Greenleaf told Gimli, while he adjusted Hasufel's tack.  
  
"How?" the Dwarf demanded. He eyed the Elf suspiciously, momentarily forgetting Aragorn, whose head now lay in his lap. "What are you doing?"  
  
Greenleaf smiled and stood back. The stirrups were now right up by the saddle. "You'll have to ride Hasufel," he said, "and I'll have Aragorn on Shadowfax with me."  
  
"You're crazy!" Gimli's face was a picture, a perfect illustration of astonishment and disbelief. "I'll never be able to ride that beast!"  
  
"It's the only way," Greenleaf told him, "come dark and the orcs'll be out, if they're not out sooner. I can't just leave you behind." Though I'd like to, he thought, but didn't get the usual pleasure from the idea. "He'll follow Shadowfax; you don't need to guide him, just hang on tight. Here, I'll give you a leg up."  
  
Muttering dire things about crazy Elves and their crazy horses and how much he'd rather be back in the caves, Gimli allowed Greenleaf to help him up, though with bad grace. He clutched at the leathers, watching as Greenleaf wrapped the Man's cloak around the still unconscious figure and then his own as well. He placed Aragorn on Shadowfax's back, swinging himself up a moment later. The stallion moved on at his command, Hasufel following directly after. They picked up speed and Gimli clung on even tighter.  
  
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	7. The Propensity of a Lady

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry for this being so late. Computers are stupid. Anyway, after all that excitement, a little bit of calm. Naturally, it's the calm before the storm. Heh heh.  
  
Review replies:  
  
theinklesspen: Very good, I'm impressed. You've been reading my other fics and noticing them (curses, my self-plagiarism has been spotted!). We love Gimli. He's great.  
  
Nemo Returning: Yup, out of Moria. Though the words "frying-pan" and "fire" come to mind. And you don't like the tunnels? Oh dear.  
  
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Chapter 7. The Propensity of a Lady  
  
Neither Greenleaf nor Gimli had left Aragorn's side since they had returned from Moria. They had stood back to allow Lord Elrond and U to work on Aragorn, but they wouldn't leave until they knew he would be all right. U had given them both stern looks but had been too concerned with the Man to chase them out. They stood together against the wall, for once not bickering. G entered, going straight to the bedside. She spoke a little with Elrond, and both looked worried. Bending down a little, she whispered to Aragorn, laying one pale hand on his head. He had been agitated and thrashing about, but at her words he calmed a little, lying more still. Straightening up, G fixed her eyes on Greenleaf and Gimli.  
  
"Out," she ordered firmly, "now." She walked over and gave them both a glare in turn. "Come on. You both have wounds."  
  
They looked like they would refuse, but the look in her eyes was not to be argued with. She followed them out, shepherding them into one of the other rooms.  
  
"Stay here," she told them, "and I'll get someone to treat you." She held up a hand before either could speak. "We can talk after. Got it?" She swept out.  
  
Greenleaf and Gimli glanced at each other, and a brief smile passed over both their faces before being quickly suppressed. Greenleaf was still doing his best to resent the Dwarf, but wasn't doing very well. Despite his generally prickly demeanour and arrogant behaviour (which Greenleaf loathed) he had proved some compassion in his treatment of Aragorn, and his for the Man now stood in his favour. His prowess as a warrior was beyond doubt; Greenleaf had to admire his skill in a fight. To his horror, the Elf found that he was feeling fond of Gimli. He had the uneasy feeling of actually wanting his company and thinking that he would be a good person to talk to. The thought was buried instantly –with Greenleaf vowing to dunk his head in cold water as soon as possible- but it kept niggling. Surreptitiously, Greenleaf looked sideways at the Dwarf, hair hanging forward to conceal his face and what he was doing.  
  
Gimli was sitting now on one of the chairs, his legs hanging above the floor like a child's, but there the parallels ended. His stocky body was in no way childlike, seeming to be hewn from the very rocks he loved. The beard that started at his chin could almost be a growth of lichen or moss. He had removed his helmet, revealing a long dark bruise along his forehead. Greenleaf was half-shocked to see it. The Dwarf had made no complaint or even seemed wearied. Sturdiness was indeed a Dwarvish virtue, either that or Gimli was just too hardheaded.  
  
Greenleaf sat on one of the beds. He picked at the drying blood in his hair, noting as he did that it was a mixture of orc blood and his own. It was well matted in, and he pulled at it until G walked back in, accompanied by two healers. Greenleaf smiled brightly at her, and she couldn't help but smile back, stern expression melting. She stood beside Greenleaf as one of the healers came over, carrying a bag. The healer, a strict-faced older Elf with dark hair, gave Greenleaf a quick look over.  
  
"Right," he said briskly, "tunic off then. Let's get a better look."  
  
Greenleaf undid his tunic obediently, having had previous experience with this particular healer. He was sure that MESS employed the most barbaric ones possible. Or at least, the ones who believed in causing pain to their patients for the betterment of healing. Perhaps it was just with him; he was a fairly frequent visitor to the healers, always with some injury or other. He pursed his lips as his injuries were probed none too gently. Looking across, he saw Gimli receiving similar treatment. They shared a short resigned look, which was quickly broken. Greenleaf knew that G was just waiting for an opportunity to give him an 'I told you so' eyebrow raise.  
  
"Well," the healer's supercilious voice cut across his thoughts, "you're in better shape than you usually are, I have to say. Mostly just bruises," here he pressed at Greenleaf's side, "though these will be particularly colourful. You've got some nice cuts, here on your arm you'll need a bandage, and the one on your cheek needs cleaning. There's this long deep graze down your left side, I presume from an arrow?" He looked expectantly at Greenleaf, who nodded. "I thought as much. That'll need scrubbing out, don't want it to get infected, do we? Even if the arrow wasn't poisoned I'm sure it was utterly filthy. Now, you just sit still while I do that."  
  
Greenleaf, for once, did as he was told, submitting to the healer's rather less than tender care. The substance used to clean his wounds stung abominably. A bandage was pulled viciously tight around his arm, and Greenleaf swore he saw a smile on the healer's face. He kept his own face emotionless, even as the healer moved onto his side. Cold fingers pushed along, washing blood and muck out with what seemed to Greenleaf to be sadistic delight. He bore it in silence though. After all the enemies he had faced, this was nothing, though he would rather face them all including the healer than argue with G in a bad mood. Luckily for now, she seemed to be smiling. Kind of, anyway.  
  
"I'll see you both in my office in an hour," she said, "you both need a bath after this. The baths should be fairly empty at this time of day."  
  
Bathe with a Dwarf? That was Greenleaf's immediate, unspoken response. He didn't dare say it; he could see a look-in-waiting hovering on G's face. He simply nodded instead.  
  
To his surprise, Gimli silently agreed as well. There was not even a hint of a derogatory response. At first, Greenleaf thought that the Dwarf was simply cowed by G's imposing presence, but a look at his face changed that impression. The Elf stifled a laugh. Gimli was obviously rather sweet on the lady! He smiled as G left the room.  
  
"There you go," the healer said, standing back, "all fixed. At least for now. You be careful with those now, you hear?"  
  
Greenleaf nodded, feeling well scolded. He stood and walked to the door, pausing to look at Gimli. He rolled his eyes in the direction of the healer and they both grinned. Then he went out of the door, heading for his rooms to find clean clothes. He carried his worn tunic under one arm, feeling the crackle of paper within it. He would hide the map in his room while he took a bath, and then take it to G later. If she hadn't guessed what they'd found already, that was.  
  
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The baths were, as G had predicted, practically empty. Only a couple of Elves chatted in a corner. They waved to Greenleaf as he walked in, but he didn't join them. Not for any reason he knew, he went over to one of the baths in another corner where a short red-haired figure was. Most of the baths were large pools of various sizes, aside from a few individual ones in alcoves. Gimli pulled a face as Greenleaf walked up. One of his hands held the side of the bath.  
  
"They don't build these things for Dwarves," he complained. "There's no way that my feet will ever reach the bottom."  
  
Greenleaf laughed, stripping off his clothes, un-braiding his hair and sliding into the water. It was hot, wonderfully so after the cold of the Mines. Even though they had been out of them for some time, he could still feel the chill in his bones, deep and penetrating. He sat on the ledge that ran around two sides of the bath a little way under the water (which Gimli had clearly not noticed), keeping his bandages out of it. The last thing he wanted was to go and see that healer again. After a few moments Gimli joined him on the ledge.  
  
"What'll happen now?" he asked.  
  
Greenleaf had a quick look round. The baths' only other occupants were the two on the other side, who were undoubtedly speculating wildly over why he was bathing with a Dwarf. Let them, Greenleaf thought. It had been a long day and he didn't care. "She'll send somebody out there," he told Gimli in a low voice. "It'll be up to her who it is, but I'd love to go." He grinned. "Wouldn't you?"  
  
Gimli raised an eyebrow (and Greenleaf fought the urge to tell him that it was one of G's patent expressions). "She'll just send one person?"  
  
"Maybe two." The Elf shrugged. "It's the whole thing of secrecy. Sauron would notice a huge army arriving on his doorstep, and open war is not what we want." He frowned, thinking fro a moment. "If we had a huge army, that is."  
  
"What can one person do against the might of Sauron?" Gimli asked. "I heard he had a pretty big operation going on, with him as 'Mr. Big', so to speak."  
  
"Ah, but one person may get by unseen where an army may not." Greenleaf gave the Dwarf a sideways look. "And as to what you can do, well, it all depends on you, doesn't it? Get it right and you can bring down the whole thing. You should have seen the mess we made of Isengard."  
  
Gimli laughed a little. "I have heard about it," he said dryly, "it's a very picturesque spot now, I'm told. Popular holiday spot, nice view and everything."  
  
Greenleaf smiled, caught off guard by the Dwarf's humour. He was surprised again by the simple fact that he liked him. But still trying to ignore it, he tipped his head forward, dipping his hair into the water in front of him. He wetted it thoroughly then began to rub soap in, washing out all the dried blood.  
  
"I suppose it'd be just another mission for you," Gimli commented, "another scalp on your belt."  
  
"Oh no," Greenleaf said, glancing at the Dwarf, "not at all. Each one's different, you know. And this, well," he paused, "it's bigger than most. We've known that something was happening in the East for a while, but didn't get confirmation of anything solid until recently. Sauron's probably about the biggest we've had to face in a long time."  
  
"And that doesn't put you off?" Gimli asked. He stared at the Elf. "No," he continued slowly, "you like it. You prefer it, don't you?"  
  
"The bigger they come the harder they fall." Greenleaf turned his attention to his legs, lifting them out of the water one at a time to soap and rinse. Bruises gleamed purple on his right calf, five small marks in an arc on either side of his leg. He rubbed at them gently, feeling the ache as he did so. A sideways glance told him that Gimli was watching him. He didn't really mind though. Greenleaf had never been shy about his body, having bee around too long to worry about trivialities like that. At least the Dwarf wasn't looking at him with pity; pity was one thing that Greenleaf hated, among others. Instead, it was a look of curiosity the Dwarf gave him.  
  
"Why do you do it?" Gimli asked the Elf.  
  
Greenleaf stared at him. It wasn't something he thought about often, if at all. He just did his job, as he had for centuries. He was good enough at it to survive and be able to keep at it. There was nothing else that he would contemplate doing. He could remain in Mirkwood, he supposed, living the life of a prince as his father would have liked him to. But he had lived that lifestyle, and it was boring. He hoped he would never have to become King. The prospect of endless dreary meetings with officious dignitaries concerning the running of the kingdom was far more awful than the worst torture any of his enemies could inflict. He was happy doing what he did; he loved the excitement, danger and intrigue of every mission. He couldn't begin to conceive what life would be like without the risk of death every now and then. It made him feel alive! And now this Dwarf was asking him why. As if there was any doubt for Greenleaf about why. It was obviously a silly question; the Dwarf was trying to push existential doubt on him.  
  
"I just wondered," Gimli continued when he didn't get an answer, "I mean, don't you ever get tired of it? You must have been in this outfit for a long time."  
  
"Before you were born," Greenleaf replied, side-stepping the question more than a little, "before your forefathers even." He submerged his head beneath the water again, rinsing his hair thoroughly and avoiding the need to answer Gimli. It wasn't so much the Dwarf's arrogance in asking the question; more his own suspicion that there was actually some truth in it. He had been at it for a long time, though he had thought little of it, as is the way of Elves. Time passed on in the way it always had. Only now did he properly realise how long he had worked for MESS, maybe due to the fact that he was working with mortals. It seemed only yesterday that his father had been ranting and raving about a group of Dwarves that had escaped from his dungeons, but now he was working with the son of one of them. It was the same with Aragorn; Greenleaf could remember quite clearly when the boy had been taken to Rivendell (though he couldn't be expected to remember particular details, like the boy's lineage; he had never been really interested in the affairs of Men after all). And during all that time he had been working for the Secret Service. At G's beck and call. Maybe he was slightly tired of it.  
  
He pulled his head up again, throwing his hair back and spraying water as he did. He hauled himself out of the bath and reached for his towel. His body was long and pale, glistening with the water until he dried himself. He knew that the eyes of the Dwarf were on him, and put it down to professional jealousy. He looked over at Gimli as the Dwarf climbed out. Nothing to worry about there, he thought, smiling slightly. He picked up his clothes, donning them easily. He had only brought tunic and leggings with him. His boots he had left in his room, but he was as comfortable barefoot as he was with them on. He rubbed at his hair with the towel.  
  
"I'll see you in G's office," he said to Gimli, and left the baths. Stones were cold beneath his feet as he walked, but the sun was warm above. He would have to hurry to the lady's office now, as his bath had taken longer than expected. Probably due to his conversation with the Dwarf. He only had time to pull on his boots before heading off again.  
  
He dropped in to see how Aragorn was faring first. Lord Elrond and Gandalf had finished their immediate treatment, and Aragorn lay still on the bed. White bandages covered much of him.  
  
"How is he?" Greenleaf asked. He stopped at the Man's bedside, looking down at the figure.  
  
"Not too good," Elrond told him. "It will be some time before he is fully recovered. But he will recover, part in thanks to your quick treatment earlier."  
  
Greenleaf nodded his thanks to the half-Elven Lord. He took a long look at the prone Man, saying nothing. Then he turned on his heel and left. G's office was just along the corridor. Greenleaf entered her secretary's office first, where Miss Evenstar was talking to Gimli. They both looked up as he walked in. Miss Evenstar seemed worried, though Greenleaf didn't really notice.  
  
"He'll be all right," he told Gimli. The Dwarf nodded, looking relieved.  
  
"Oh, good," Miss Evenstar exclaimed. Greenleaf was surprised by her concern –she barely knew the Man- but he smiled anyway as he realised why. She coughed. "You'd better go in," she said, indicating to the door. They went in to where G was waiting.  
  
"What did you find?" she asked as soon as the door had been shut. She was straight to the point, as ever.  
  
Greenleaf pulled out the map and handed it over. He didn't need to say anything. G examined the map carefully, frowning a little.  
  
"Orodruin," she said finally, "Sauron has his base in the very heart of Mordor." She paused. "Much as we expected really. But we didn't think he'd be in 'Mount Doom'."  
  
"He was his secret lair inside a volcano," Greenleaf said, and the corner of his mouth twitched, "got a nice sense of drama to it, I suppose. Must be quite a feat of engineering."  
  
Gimli stroked his beard. "I'll bet. Be interesting to see, I'll warrant." His eyes met Greenleaf's, and a brief spark of understanding passed between them. The Elf took his lead gladly.  
  
"All built by orcs, I expect," he said, "but being inside a volcano has got to be dangerous. There's surely some way to use that."  
  
"Maybe setting off an exception would do the trick," Gimli mused. He winked at Greenleaf while G's eyes were on the map.  
  
"An explosion, perhaps," Greenleaf picked up the Dwarf's thread.  
  
"The orcs seemed to have that blasting stuff in abundance in Moria," Gimli continued, running with it. His expression became calculating. "Of course, it'll all be caves."  
  
Greenleaf sent his co-conspirator a deadly glare when he was sure that G wasn't looking. "You couldn't send an Elf on their own," he said, grudgingly continuing that line, "it just wouldn't work. But with a companion..."  
  
"Who would be a Dwarf, naturally," Gimli said, "no one better than a Dwarf for caves. And the heat of a smithy, you know, prepares you for the temperatures in a volcano."  
  
They both stopped talking as G fixed her gaze on both of them. Greenleaf smiled innocently and refused to be cowed. Gimli, beside him, did the same. G came out from behind her desk to stand directly in front of the pair, looking for all Middle-earth like she was about to scold them like children. But her voice remained level.  
  
"Why do you assume that you will be going?"  
  
"Did we say that?" Greenleaf asked, eyes widening. "We were just offering suggestions, that's all. Didn't say a thing about going."  
  
"Drop the act, Legolas," she said, "I know what you two are hinting at. You are not going to Mordor."  
  
Greenleaf looked at her with his piercing blue eyes. "Why?" he asked.  
  
"You've only just been sent on a mission," she told him calmly, "and you're injured, not to mention tired, I'm sure."  
  
"It takes more than that to tire me out," he said, beginning to get angry, "and I'm hardly injured. A few bruises and cuts, and that's all. I'm fine."  
  
G raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
More than a little infuriated, Greenleaf's face became mutinous. "Who else will you send?" His tone was challenging.  
  
G focussed her gaze directly on him. It was unnerving, but he didn't let her see it. Her voice was still perfectly calm. "It doesn't matter. But you're not going."  
  
There was a silent confrontation, a standoff between the two Elves. Blue eyes met blue eyes, neither backing down. Gimli stood to the side, not daring to interrupt; he wasn't that stupid. The lady, tall and elegant, looked across at her rebellious agent. His brows were drawn tight in anger as he came to a decision.  
  
"I'll go anyway," he said. "With all due respect, ma'am, I want to see this through." He forced himself to appear as calm as she did. "You know I can do this."  
  
G gave him a long, searching stare. "I know you can," she said finally, "it's just..."  
  
"I'll be very, very careful," Greenleaf promised, seeing her determination waver.  
  
"Oh, where have I heard that before? Legolas, like I said, you're tired and injured. You can't possibly go."  
  
"And like I said, I'm fine." Greenleaf resisted the urge to put his hands on his hips. It would have seemed childish. "I'm going. That's final."  
  
There was another long silence. Eventually, G sighed. "Very well," she said, "if you must. Yes, I will send you to Mordor, but," here she raised a finger, "you will not go alone."  
  
Greenleaf smiled. "I thought perhaps..." He looked over at Gimli, who had been keeping very quiet. The Dwarf grinned back, teeth showing white between his lips, surrounded by red beard. G gave them both a long look. It seemed to be one of her favourite tactics in a conversation. Greenleaf had to admit that it worked; anyone in a conversation with her would find themselves saying more than they meant to, to try and fill the awkward silences. Either that or they became completely intimidated and told her anything. But Greenleaf was wise to that.  
  
"Gimli, son of Glóin, will you go to Mordor with this Elf?" she asked. A secret smile was on her face, as if she was amused by some private joke.  
  
"Yes," the Dwarf replied, "with your leave, milady." He made a funny little bow with his head.  
  
"Then you must prepare," G said. She went behind her desk again and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a map. She spread it out, laying the orcs' map beside it. With a long finger she traced a route, beginning at Lothlórien and ending deep in Mordor, at Mount Doom. "Will you go on Shadowfax?" she asked. "Both of you?"  
  
Both nodded, though Gimli's nod was somewhat reluctant. He was still unsure about the idea of riding, despite his journey from Dimrill Dale on Hasufel. He had bruises in places he didn't want to mention.  
  
"You'll need a little time before you go," G said, "to get ready and so forth. I'll let U know and you'll have to go and see him. Don't do anything silly beforehand."  
  
Greenleaf and Gimli both feigned looks of complete innocence. Inwardly, G smirked. They were more similar than either would like to admit.  
  
"You leave in a week," she said.  
  
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	8. Spies on the Wind

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Um, stuff. Stuff and nonsense. Nothing to say, in other words.  
  
Review replies: Ertia: wow, lookee everybody, we have a 'nooo' reader! (Apologies, I just couldn't help the Marjorie Dawes impression). Glad you like the fic. Tripe stew, hmm? That's an interesting description.  
  
theinklesspen: well, thankees. Though I have to admit to not being the first to have sadistic healers. They are fun though.  
  
Nemo Returning: just the two of them, yes. I couldn't just re-write the books, could I? And there are hobbits! (chapter 1 of Ringfinger) I just didn't particularly include the hobbits in this fic. Why have hobbits when there's a rather sweet Elf to do it with much more style?  
  
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Chapter 8. Spies on the Wind  
  
"Ouch! Aren't there any smoother paths than this? Blasted horse!"  
  
Greenleaf sighed. They had only left Lothlórien two days ago, and the Dwarf had been complaining ever since.  
  
"And why can't you at least get a saddle or something for this beast? My arse must be as blue as an asphyxiated warg!"  
  
"You could try and bridle him if you wished," Greenleaf observed dryly, "though he wouldn't allow it. Even supposing you were tall enough to reach."  
  
That shut the Dwarf up, at least for the time being. They continued on in silence. Their path led them down the Eastern side of the Great River, the Anduin, following the course of the flowing water. Shadowfax ran fast, covering the ground at no uncertain pace. The closer they got to Mordor, the more Greenleaf felt his anticipation build. He had known that something would happen in the East for years. It was always a threat, an ever-present one that lingered in the back of everyone's minds. It was no surprise when Sauron finally began making his moves openly. The nature of his attacks –with the red eye device being clearly marked- only confirmed what had been long suspected; that Sauron was growing stronger and more confident. Of course, it was always something of a worry that he already had covert operations in place that he didn't know about.  
  
But none of that mattered that much at that moment. Greenleaf, for the most part, trusted Lórien's security protocols and espionage networks. If there was anything he needed to know, he knew it. This was the big one, the sort of operation he'd been waiting for all his life. His grandfather had died in the last great battle against Sauron some thousands of years before. That was probably one of the reasons why G didn't want him to go; she thought it was about revenge. It wasn't, Greenleaf was fairly sure about that. He had never known Oropher, his grandfather, and he wasn't stupid enough to blind himself with anger. Even so, many had died in that battle, both Men and Elves, and that was a good enough reason for Greenleaf to stop Sauron before he got too big again. The task itself was daunting, but Greenleaf refused to let it scare him. The size and scale would obviously need to be thought about and taken into account, but there was no sense in worrying about it. If anything, the Elf was excited.  
  
He always got a buzz from his missions, and this was no exception. There was always enjoyment in bringing down some big shot, and Sauron was bigger than most. Greenleaf would get him or die trying, but there was no use in contemplating failure just yet. It was the biggest job he'd ever had, but this time he wasn't alone. It was odd; Greenleaf was actually fairly glad of the company. Even if it was a Dwarf, it was almost a relief to be able to share some of the responsibility, though not equally of course. He was still in charge.  
  
Their path took them close along the riverbank. A few trees edged it, but beyond that was a great rise of stone. It was the Emyn Muil, a large expanse of sharp, twisted rocks, where many travellers became lost. Once among the rocks, everything began to look the same. If you weren't actually going round in circles then you thought you were. For this reason Greenleaf and Gimli followed the edge on the Emyn Muil, between the rocks and the river. It was a narrow way, but Shadowfax traversed it easily and at speed. The river rushed beside them, singing its song to anyone who would listen. It was a pleasant day, with a few crowds dotted across the sky. Greenleaf smiled. It was a perfect day for teasing a Dwarf.  
  
"I have heard it said that Dwarves will not appreciate the beauty of a day like this unless they are underground," he commented. "Tell me, is this true?"  
  
Gimli spluttered a little. "Of course not!" he defended. "I can see that this is a beautiful day quite plainly, thank you very much. Just because you Elves can't see pleasure in a well formed rock formation." He humphed, and Greenleaf felt the Dwarf's head turn away in irritation. He grinned to himself.  
  
"But rocks have no life, they do not grow," he said quite calmly, as if they were simply having a discussion over dinner, "where there is no life there can be no beauty, surely."  
  
"I beg to differ," Gimli argued, "only glancing at some carved piece even you can see the work that has gone into it, the care that has been lavished on it."  
  
"Oh, something may be much worked and still lack beauty." Greenleaf rubbed Shadowfax's neck idly. There was silence for a few moments, during which time he could practically hear the Dwarf thinking.  
  
"But there are many Elf homes built of stone," Gimli said. "Can you say that Rivendell is not beautiful?"  
  
Greenleaf almost laughed out loud; the Dwarf had made a good point. Not that he'd let him have it, naturally. "It is beautiful, but not due to the stone. It is more the light and space, not to mention the gardens."  
  
Gimli grumbled under his breath, and Greenleaf knew that he had scored a point. "You Mirkwood Elves though," the Dwarf said suddenly, "you live in caves, don't you?"  
  
How did he know that? Greenleaf stiffened in surprise, then remembered that this Dwarf's father and his companions had been prisoners for a time in the Mirkwood dungeons. "Nothing like those monstrosities you call Mines," he said coldly, "and they are a necessity. Our woods are dark and dangerous, and to live so out in the open would be foolhardy. It is the trees that are beautiful in my home, though not so much as they are in Lothlórien."  
  
He scowled, not really wanting to be discussing his home with the Dwarf. He didn't usually talk of it at all. Though he hated to admit it, the thought of Mirkwood did make him homesick to a certain degree. His work with the Secret Service meant that his visits home were few and far between, and always short. That was, admittedly, partly due to him. While his father was proud of him, there was a disappointment in his eyes and manner, a wish that Greenleaf had stayed in Mirkwood with his duties as Prince. They never had anything to talk about anyway. Greenleaf's life was his work, nothing more, and he couldn't talk about it to anyone outside of the Service. Too much relied on secrets remaining secret. He and his father never quite seemed to connect. Since his mother...but that thought was best left. No point in getting morose just before an important mission.  
  
"So, Gimli," he said, "tell me what beauty may be found there." He pointed up to their left, where the Emyn Muil rose.  
  
"Well," Gimli began, shifting to try and gain a more comfortable seat. "The beauty is obvious to one who looks. Its solidity is a marvel, a testament to its hardwearing nature. You cannot call rocks dead when they are such a part of nature as they are. They stand for generations the same. Surely you know the majesty of an ancient tree?"  
  
"I do," Greenleaf agreed, "but all the more so when I have seen it grow from seed or acorn. It is the passage of time and what it works."  
  
"But rocks will stand so much longer than trees," the Dwarf continued, "and each single rock will have seen countless thousands of years. Think of all they have witnessed in that time!"  
  
"Some things are better forgotten, if it were possible," Greenleaf said. "What of the rocks that have been stained with the blood of the slain? They bear forever the mark and the memory of murder, of the taking of lives. Where can their beauty be?" His tone was hard. This had progressed beyond simple teasing, and he wished it hadn't.  
  
"It was not the rocks themselves that did the deeds," Gimli answered softly, "a rock cannot in itself be evil." He paused and took a deep breath. "But that was not your original question. I merely thought that, as an Elf, you would find some beauty and something to appreciate in rocks this old. I didn't think I'd be able to persuade you of the attractiveness of a well-formed lump of granite!" He laughed, and Greenleaf was glad. Gimli continued. "Do you not appreciate these rocks that are older than the Lady Galadriel?"  
  
"And that is a measure of beauty?" Greenleaf asked with a grin. "Why, Gimli, you find Lady Galadriel very beautiful, do you not, to compare her to a pile of rocks?"  
  
Gimli mock-scowled as the body of the Elf before him began to shake with laughter. "You wicked Elf!" he exclaimed. "What are you trying to suggest?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing," Greenleaf said, laughter subsiding to a broad smile. "See, we have reached the Falls of Rauros. Here is truly a most beautiful sight! That even you must agree to, Master Dwarf."  
  
"Aye, that I must," Gimli acknowledged.  
  
It was true. The great waters of the Anduin, which had travelled so far from the North, were constantly pouring off of what seemed to be the edge of the world. Spray and foam hid the very bottom, where the waters hit with unrelenting force. A great plunge pool spread out below and beyond that the river continued its way, eventually to meet the sea, where it would roll and play amid the cry of the white gulls. The roar was tremendous, a mighty challenge that issued from the throat of the river.  
  
Shadowfax stood still on the bank and they all stared over the tumbling waters. It was quite a sight, but Greenleaf soon turned away.  
  
"We go east now," he said, turning Shadowfax that way, "if we keep as far south as we can on the Emyn Muil then we shouldn't get lost."  
  
"Pah!" the Dwarf expostulated. "It would have to be a very great area of rock for me to get lost in it, I can tell you! I have the eyes of a hawk!"  
  
"And the modesty of a peacock," Greenleaf added. He laughed. "But Shadowfax will not allow us to become lost."  
  
Gimli muttered a few choice words, mostly involving damned horses. The Elf laughed again.  
  
The rocks they passed were, of course, beautiful in their way. Tall craggy formations created curious shadows in the sunlight. Some seemed to take on the form of a man's face, with rough-hewn nose and chin, or sometimes animals in ridiculous proportions. One had been a dog so lifelike that had either of them been at all fanciful they would have expected it to leap from its crouched position and bark at their passing. Here and there among the grey landscape were stunted trees, as gnarled and twisted as old men. Little grew in this barren area, and there was indeed little that an Elf could find wonderful. Away to the south, just visible through gaps in the rock when cresting a ridge, were damp marshes. They were of a lush, mucky green, a stark contrast to the stone they travelled through. The marshes were known as the Nindalf, or Wetwang. It was such a lovely day that Greenleaf began humming to himself.  
  
"Is that a cloud?" Gimli suddenly asked. He pointed ahead of them to the East, where a dark shape was visible. "It moves very fast, and there is little wind."  
  
Greenleaf stared at where the Dwarf indicated. He cursed as he saw what it was and leapt from Shadowfax's back, pulling Gimli with him. "Crebain!" he hissed by way of explanation. "Go, Shadowfax," he said, turning to the horse, "find concealment." Shadowfax obeyed immediately, vanishing among the rocks.  
  
"We must hide too!" Greenleaf dragged Gimli under a bush, drawing his cloak over them both. "They will be here any minute," he said, "and we must not be seen!"  
  
"What are they?" Gimli demanded. He wasn't going to be dragged anywhere by an Elf without proper explanation.  
  
"Crebain," Greenleaf repeated. "Basically they're crows, but they've been used as spies before." He glanced up. "Hush now, here they come!"  
  
The great flock of black birds that pin-wheeled above the Emyn Muil was a breathtaking sight. However, there was an eeriness, and unnaturalness about it. No normal flock would behave in such a fashion. They swept in circles over the plateau, covering it with efficiency. A whirlwind of black feathers was all they seemed, but Greenleaf knew there were sharp claws and beaks, and ever watchful eyes as well. He peered up through the leaves of the bush, calculating how long it would take before they could be on the move again. The Dwarf beside him was almost intimately close, enough so that Greenleaf could smell him clearly; an odour of heat, of metal in forges, and of rocks. It was as if they were two lovers, he reflected with a deprecating smile, waiting in the bushes for some passer-by to go on so they could continue. The image threatened to make him laugh out loud, so he quickly quashed it.  
  
The crebain continued to circle, seeming –at least to Greenleaf and Gimli- to be spending far too long over their position. Paranoid thoughts were only to be expected, as the tornado of birds remained over them. Greenleaf found himself closing his eyes in a childish attempt at 'if I can't see them they can't see me'. He forced them open again. This was no child's game, and he was well past the age for such. He watched the flock's progress as they swept the plateau, until finally they soared off in a different direction from which they had come. Greenleaf gave it a couple more minutes, and then eased himself out from under the bush. The birds were tiny black specks off to the South.  
  
"Odd," Greenleaf muttered.  
  
"What?" Gimli asked, getting to his feet.  
  
"Crebain like that come from Dunland," Greenleaf answered, "which is West of here, completely the opposite direction of where they came from. I didn't know Sauron used them."  
  
"He must be expecting someone," Gimli said, "I wouldn't have thought that he has those birds fly up here regularly."  
  
"No, he wouldn't." Greenleaf rubbed his side, thinking. "It looks like they're doing a sweep of the area, at least within certain boundaries." He put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.  
  
"Will they be back?" Gimli asked. "If he is expecting us then he won't be satisfied by one sweep round, will he?"  
  
"No, he won't," Greenleaf answered, "and he'll probably have high security round his borders as well. We'll have to keep our eyes to the skies and waste no time as we go."  
  
Shadowfax galloped up through the rocks to meet them. Greenleaf patted him before lifting the Dwarf up and swinging on to sit before him. He encouraged the horse on. Their pace was fast, and before long they had reached the edge of the Emyn Muil. And what an edge it was. Gimli took one look over and clutched Greenleaf's waist tighter.  
  
"This may seem a silly question to a crazy Elf," he said, "but how are we, including this dratted horse, to get over that?"  
  
"We use a rope," Greenleaf told him, as if it was the simplest thing in Middle-earth. "Shadowfax –who is a fine horse, not "dratted"- can find his own way down, which he'll do better without us on his back. It's obvious enough, even to a stupid Dwarf."  
  
He slipped down off Shadowfax and Gimli followed, grumbling quietly to himself. He stood moderately near the edge and looked down, eyeing the rather steep drop. The rock did seem quite sheer. Hoofbeats behind him signified that Shadowfax had gone on his way. Greenleaf came up behind with a silvery-grey rope in his hands. He tied it in a quick skilful knot to one of the solid, stumpy trees and let the end drop. It was, curiously, exactly the right length. Gimli eyed it suspiciously.  
  
"Will you go first?" asked Greenleaf, gesturing down.  
  
"I would rather you did," the Dwarf grunted, "I'm not sure I trust entirely in your Elvish bits of string." He crossed his arms.  
  
"Have it your way," the Elf said, going to the edge. He took up the rope in his right hand. "But bear in mind that this "bit of string" was made by Lady Galadriel herself."  
  
With that parting shot he lowered himself over, gripping the rope in both hands. He braced his feet against the cliff, legs straight ahead, and began to walk down backwards. The rope slid through his hands as he allowed it to. First his left hand, which was about level with his head, would slide down, and then grip tightly. Then he would take a few steps back, allowing the rope through his right hand, which remained beside his hip. His right hand then tightened and the whole process began again. There was no worry of rope burn from the Elvish rope.  
  
Gimli watched the Elf's progress, hand resting on his axe shaft for reassurance. About halfway down, Greenleaf looked up.  
  
"There's an overhang here," he called, "have to just go hand over hand for a bit." He let his legs down, wrapping them round the rope to support him. It was faster going like that, but it wouldn't have been possible before, when the rope lay against the rock face. His feet touched the ground. "Your turn," he shouted, "and don't take your time about it."  
  
The rotund backside of the Dwarf soon appeared above Greenleaf, and he stood back to watch Gimli make his way down. It wasn't as if Dwarves were unfamiliar with rope work; after all they used it a lot in their caves when exploring undiscovered caverns and the suchlike –whatever it was Dwarves actually did in caves. Ironically, whereas Greenleaf would probably think twice about such a tactic in a cave, for Gimli it was the opposite.  
  
Oh, we're a right pair, Greenleaf thought. Nobody'd think we were working together. He smiled. And that fact could prove useful.  
  
"There you go, Master Elf," Gimli said as he reached the foot of the crag, "quick enough, was I?" He looked back up. "One thing though," he asked. "Are you just leaving the rope there?"  
  
Greenleaf smiled again, and tugged lightly at the rope once. Obediently, it slid down the cliff, landing in a pile at the Elf's feet. His smile grew wider as he saw Gimli's face.  
  
"Th-that rope," the Dwarf stammered, "could have come down at any minute! How could you just climb down it? Or let me climb down? Your knot was suspect, I think!"  
  
"Not at all," Greenleaf pacified him, folding the rope and stowing it away again, "it is Elvish rope. It would not have let you fall, but it came when it was called."  
  
Shadowfax trotted up behind the Elf and nudged his shoulder with his nose. Greenleaf smiled and mounted the horse, reaching down to pull Gimli up. The Dwarf had given up complaining about riding; it was a waste of effort really. He settled, as comfortably as possible, behind the Elf, holding his waist. Shadowfax walked on at Greenleaf's request.  
  
"So where is it now then?" Gimli asked.  
  
"The Dead Marshes," Greenleaf answered, pointing ahead, "but don't worry, Shadowfax will find the path quite easily."  
  
Gimli muttered something, and Greenleaf fought the urge to roll his eyes. They soon reached the Marshes; the great flat area before the mountains. Closer to, the grass looked less healthy and more stringy, often half- drowned and soggy in puddles of muddy water. A foot wrong anywhere could lead the unwary traveller to fall and even be sucked under. A few trees stuck up in places, but none of any attractiveness. Shadowfax, after only a slight hesitation, headed straight out onto the Marshes, hooves finding sure footing with each step.  
  
"Not to sound ignorant," Gimli said after a little while, "but why are they called the Dead Marshes? Granted, they're not cheerful, but they still seem alive. Got plants and everything."  
  
"There was a battle, a long time ago," Greenleaf explained, glancing to the side and into the water, "Elves and Men against Sauron's lot. Pretty bad fight. They fought right here, when it was a huge field. Hundreds died." He was silent for a moment, considering it. "They were buried here, all of them: Elves, Men, orcs. Then the waters rose, and it became a marsh."  
  
Gimli shuddered a little. "Delightful," he commented, looking down cautiously. He caught a view of something white in one of the pools as they passed, and he gazed back curiously. He hadn't expected to see anything in the dark waters; the night was drawing in slowly and the light of day was dimming. He leaned over further, trying to see into other pools. One caught his attention, one near to the path they followed. A light seemed to glow faintly within it, and Gimli could see a face. It was pale and slightly rotting, but fascination bade him look closer. The eyes were shut in the fair, proud face, and the shadow of a helm still seemed to be about its brow. Silvery hair rippled around it, becoming indistinguishable from the weeds that grew from below. Gimli seemed to be drawn to its dead beauty, the closed eyes holding him in a corpse's embrace. Without realising it, he leaned down yet more.  
  
"Gimli!" Greenleaf called, suddenly grabbing his companion's arm and pulling him back abruptly. "Do not follow the call of the Dead, Dwarf!"  
  
Stunned, Gimli allowed the Elf to heave him upright. He glanced up briefly, and decided that the encounter with the dead face must have left him confused, because he thought for a second that he had seen concern in Greenleaf's eyes.  
  
"Blasted will'o'th'wisps," he muttered before the holding the waist before him tighter. He pressed his face into the Elf's back, shutting his eyes.  
  
Greenleaf was berating himself for not keeping a closer eye on the Dwarf. He should have realised that there would be trouble in the Marshes and kept alert accordingly. At least he had noticed before the Dwarf actually fell from the horse; the consequences could have been much worse. He glanced to the sides warily, never staring for very long in one place. It was darkening further, but Shadowfax still continued tirelessly, never missing a step. The moon was up and the stars just coming out as they finally reached the edge of the Marshes.  
  
Gimli looked up again as Shadowfax began to gallop. "Are we out of those infernal Marshes?" he asked. His voice was quiet.  
  
"Yes," Greenleaf answered, "this is North Ithilien. Those mountains to the East are the Ephel Dúath, the Mountains of Shadow. They are part of the border of Mordor."  
  
Visible above the dark craggy shapes was a deep red glow. Occasionally, flames were seen leaping up to the sky. They were from the volcano Orodruin, the place where Sauron had his lair. Such an obvious spot, Greenleaf mused, yet one that no one thought of. The idea of hiding in a volcano was unthinkable, far too dangerous. But Sauron had obviously found a way to make it viable, somehow or other. And hiding in plain sight was always a good way to be concealed. Greenleaf looked ahead, but could see little. He pulled Shadowfax to a halt.  
  
"We'll stop here for the rest of the night," he said, dismounting. "Tomorrow we reach the dead city of Minas Morgul. We'll find a way through there."  
  
:::::::::::::::::::: 


	9. Into My Parlour

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: My descriptions don't quite tally with the film versions of places, but I always pictured the tunnels as darker. So that's how I've written them. And the tower is nothing like how they did it in the film. I wrote this before I saw ROTK (so, in December time) and I had quite a different image. Smaller, and less evil. And I was sitting on a train writing this, by three businessmen who all sat there working on important work stuff with "confidential" written on it. There they were, doing good stuff for the world, and there I was, writing fanfic. Ah, the variety you get on trains to Birmingham.  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: it's not that sort of fic, you know. Though, yes, it does seem to edge that way sometimes...cough, cough. I did have baboons on my mind actually at that point, well done.  
  
Idlewild: Yay, you're back! Glad you're enjoying it. There's another MESS fic actually, a two chapter one called Kill Me Tomorrow, if you're interested. Here's giving you more, more, more.  
  
Nemo Returning: You don't think Minas Morgul will be serene...? [Innocent look] Can't think why...  
  
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Chapter 9. Into My Parlour  
  
The pass through the Morgul Vale was guarded. This in itself was expected, as Greenleaf was not stupidly optimistic enough to think that it would be easy to gain access to the Dark Lord's lands. Both Elf and Dwarf crouched against rocks just off the path. They had left Shadowfax further northwards, though Gimli had seemed disappointed to see the horse go. If he was needed, Shadowfax would come when called, and the two of them could get through more stealthily alone. The excess baggage had been concealed among boulders at the foot of the mountains, including the extra clothing and the palantír. It wouldn't have been any use inside Mordor; reports said that Sauron had his own network there, and any use would be instantly picked up. Detection was definitely one thing they didn't want.  
  
The city of Minas Morgul, long since abandoned by Men, stood before them. It was an unprepossessing sight. It appeared, at first look, to be empty, devoid of any life, abandoned completely. But closer inspection revealed the traces of many orcs; the occasional dropped piece of armour or broken weapons, the great smears of dirt. And perched above the gateway was the sight that Greenleaf had hoped not to see. A black-robed figure squatted half in and half out of the shadows, which darkened the city despite the light of day.  
  
"Is that one of those things that we were told about?" Gimli asked quietly. "Those ghost things?" He looked up at the city warily.  
  
"A Wraith," Greenleaf whispered, "yes. Not what I wanted to see."  
  
"Why are they called that?" the Dwarf questioned. "They're not, strictly speaking, ghosts, are they?"  
  
"No," Greenleaf replied. He shifted his position slightly. "I'm not sure exactly what Sauron's done to them, no one is. But they're very difficult, nigh on impossible apparently, to kill. They're called Wraiths because they're servants for the wrath of Sauron. His symbol is an eye, so make that a letter 'i' and put it in the middle, you get 'Wraith'. Simple really."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure," Gimli commented, "bet that had them rolling on the floor when they thought of that, howling with laughter. I can see it now."  
  
Greenleaf smiled grimly. He eyed the Wraith. "They're also known as Nazgûl," he said, "to make them seem even more terrifying." The smile vanished from his face. "But that being there means that we can't go through the city. Luckily, there's another way. Tell me, how are you with cliffs?"  
  
Gimli muttered, non-committal. "Hmm. You're thinking of the stairs of Cirith Ungol, aren't you? The Straight Stair then the Winding Stair, right?"  
  
"So you do listen to some things then," Greenleaf said with a laugh. "Yes, you're right. It's a hard path, but manageable. Safer than trying to sneak past that Wraith, and any others. They probably do shifts."  
  
The Dwarf frowned a little. "They do say that there's something up there," he said, stroking his beard, "something nasty."  
  
"They do," Greenleaf responded, "so we shall have to see. And if there is something then we'll have to deal with it."  
  
"You're very confident, aren't you?" Gimli asked, giving him a look.  
  
Greenleaf smiled and made no answer. Most of what he did for his job was confidence. Without it he'd get nowhere. There was no point in acting humble, or not doing anything because of being scared. He was not Lórien's top secret agent for lack of confidence. Some might call it foolhardiness, others stupidity. But it was what he did best –well, one of the things- and he was proud of it. After all, when you only lived forever why shy away from doing anything?  
  
But although he was no coward, he was no fool either. "We'll be very careful," he said in reassurance. "There are several tunnels up there. We'll avoid as many as possible."  
  
That said, and wanting no further questions, Greenleaf stood and made his way to the bottom edge of the cliff. Gimli followed, unwittingly obedient. Their cloaks hid them from the eyes of the Wraith as they drew closer to Minas Morgul and to the base of the stairs. The stairway itself was long and narrow, nearly invisible against the rugged rock face. It wasn't, hopefully, a path that anyone would be expected to use, particularly with the rumour of something nasty at the top. That should mean that there would be few guards on the route, if any at all until they reached the tower of Cirith Ungol. Greenleaf decided to concentrate on the good points of the path, rather than worry about the potential dangers. Of course he was alert and ready for any problems, but that didn't mean he had to obsess his mind with bad things that could happen. They would be fine.  
  
The Straight Stair was aptly named. Straight up the cliff it went; a long uneven line of roughly cut steps. Greenleaf indicated that Gimli should go ahead, more to make sure that if the Dwarf fell then he would be there to catch him. It wasn't, though the thought was tempting, so that the Dwarf would walk into anything first. Greenleaf pushed the thought from his mind –but not without a small smile- as he followed Gimli up the Stairs. It was better that he went at the Dwarf's pace anyway, or they could end up too far apart. They began the arduous ascent up the pass, keeping their eyes not only on the path but also on their surroundings: the ground below, the way ahead, the track behind, and even the sky above. They couldn't be too careful.  
  
Conversation was sparse as they went. Breath was needed for climbing, and there wasn't much to talk about on the way. 'Do you come here often?' was out of the question straight away. Concentration was needed to avoid stumbling or falling on the awkward path. It was fairly easy at first, at least compared to halfway up where the slope became suddenly much steeper. Rather than walking, the pair found they had to use their hands as well to pull themselves up. But there were plenty of handholds, and although he was unused to climbing, Gimli was damned if he'd let the Elf show him up. He continued on doggedly, occasionally wishing that his boots were less solid to allow him better purchase on the rocks. It was all going perfectly until he slipped.  
  
The rock under his foot crumbled as he put his full weight on it. His hands slid and he fell backwards, a cry of surprise leaving his mouth. He landed heavily on Greenleaf, who was just behind. The breath was knocked out of the elf as the Dwarf crashed into his upper body, and he clung tightly to the cliff face with one hand, holding Gimli with the other. They hung precariously for a moment, clutched together against the rock. Greenleaf thrust Gimli back up as hard as he could.  
  
"Grab on!" he hissed. "I can't hold you forever!" It was true. The injuries he had gained in Moria were still not fully healed, and he did not particularly want to aggravate them.  
  
Gimli's hands gripped the rock, and he began hauling himself up, boosted by Greenleaf from below. When he came to a ledge he collapsed onto it, breathing heavily. Greenleaf came up beside him, pulling his legs under him to sit. They sat in silence for a bit, both concerned with their near miss. Finally, Gimli began to feel more guilt than fear.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "I slipped." It sounded rather lame.  
  
Greenleaf shrugged. "I was expecting it. Why do you think I got you to go first? I might need you later." He smiled.  
  
Gimli returned the smile, and accepted the lembas that the elf passed him. It was not long before they were on their way again. The rest of the climb passed without much incident, and the two of them made it to the top of the cliff where the path, such as it was, continued into a dark tunnel. They stopped at the entrance.  
  
"It looks like this is the only way," Greenleaf said, looking up at the sheer walls that blocked every other side. He unbound a torch from the back of his quiver, where he had tied it earlier. It was a short, stumpy piece of wood, bound tightly about the top with rags. With two small flints he lit it, expertly catching the sparks on the fabric. "Come on," he said, going towards the tunnel entrance. "It's not as if we're going to get through undetected so it's better if we have light to see where we are going." He walked into the shadows of the tunnel, torch flaming in his left hand.  
  
Gimli, despite his misgivings, followed. He was a Dwarf and therefore couldn't be afraid of any cave, unlike some pesky Elf. All the same, he pulled one of his axes from his belt, keeping it ready in his hand. He kept pace with his companion, keeping his attention ever to the surrounding rocks. The stones were bare at first, but further in were covered in a pale stringy substance.  
  
"What's this?" he asked, picking up a bit. It was sticky, and when he tried to put it down it wouldn't leave his fingers. "I don't think I've seen it before."  
  
"I have," Greenleaf said, taking a closer look, "we get a lot in Mirkwood. It's spider's web." He frowned. "This one is huge though. Much bigger than any we've had."  
  
"I suppose that means a really big spider," Gimli said as they continued on. "I'm sure I've heard of one of those in some old tale."  
  
"Shelob," Greenleaf whispered, not wanting to say the name any louder in case it called the creature to them. "One of Ungoliant's children. Sauron's allowed her to remain here as a guard, I expect, rather than have to kick her out. Good for him, but not for us." He stopped suddenly. "There's a fork ahead."  
  
Indeed there was, and they both stood there for a moment, examining each way as best they could. It was not much of a choice. Both branches looked identical in the torchlight; dark rock strung with white web. As ever in such circumstances Greenleaf's mind began to invent paranoid thoughts, unnerving him a little. Imagination began to create terrifying noises around. He could almost swear that he heard the scraping tap of the spider's legs against the rocks, but not in one place, rather seemingly from every angle. He pushed the thoughts away; he needed all his senses alert and not fogged by delusion.  
  
"There's a breeze from the left," Gimli said, "but not the right. In my opinion we should go left. Cleaner air is usually a good thing."  
  
Greenleaf nodded. "I defer to your judgement," he said, "you know more of caves like this." As soon as he had spoken he wondered why he had done it. He had just deferred to a Dwarf for the Valar's sake! But still he went with Gimli along the left hand passageway, still rather preoccupied with the darkness and trying not to be. Neither of them noticed the dark shape that followed behind.  
  
The tunnel twisted and turned several times as they walked it, more than enough times for the pair to wonder if they had taken the wrong path. But the breeze still blew from ahead, a steady offering of hope. A curious sound began to make itself heard, only faintly audible to Greenleaf's hearing. It was difficult to decipher; a gentle hum interlaced with the even quieter sound of the breeze. It was definitely before them, and it wasn't long before the source was stretched out in front. Several thick strands of the spider's web had been woven across the passage, creating an apparently impassable barrier across their way. The sound came from the breeze passing through and strumming them like instrument strings.  
  
"It shall not stand up to my axe," Gimli muttered, raising his weapon and bringing it down on the strands. It bounced off with some force. "What?"  
  
"It is stronger than it seems," Greenleaf commented, "I..." He broke off, feeling something approaching, and turned his back to the structure. A vague shape moved in the shadows, and Greenleaf's eyes widened. He thrust the torch into Gimli's hands and fitted an arrow to his bow in seconds. "She comes!" he yelled, and let fly.  
  
His aim was, as ever, accurate. A roar came from the monster spider as the arrow pegged one of her eyes in the centre, rendering it useless. She charged up the tunnel, intent on getting her claws on the two morsels penned up between her and part of her web. Greenleaf shot another arrow, slowing her and causing her to reel as another eye was taken out. They appeared to be her only weak spot, as her entire body was covered in armour- like chitin, impenetrable. But even as they Elf aimed at her eyes, he didn't know how many there were or of he could incapacitate her sufficiently with such tactics.  
  
"Here," he said, pulling out his Elven knife and giving it to Gimli. "Cut through the web. I'll hold her off."  
  
Gimli took the knife with no questions, though he was sceptical as to how the knife would be better than his axe. He was surprised, therefore, when the blade cut straight through the web, parting it with ease. Hurriedly he slashed at the remaining strands, widening the gap enough for them both to get through.  
  
"Go through," Greenleaf told him, glancing back, "I'll catch you up!"  
  
The Dwarf did as he was told, vanishing through the hole. Greenleaf seized two arrows from his quiver, ripping off a fletching from one with his teeth and spitting the feathers out. He laid the arrows across his bow and shot them in one smooth movement. The two projectiles went at different angles, hitting two eyes that were a fair distance apart. Shelob hadn't expected this, and was thrown into confusion. Knowing it wouldn't last long, Greenleaf turned and leapt through the torn web as it swung in the breeze. Gimli was waiting on the other side, torch in hand.  
  
"At a guess I'd say we should go right," he said, sounding a little unsure.  
  
"Then right we go," Greenleaf answered, pushing the Dwarf ahead. "And hurry! She is not far behind us, and she must know these tunnels perfectly!"  
  
They ran up the tunnel. Greenleaf had slung his bow onto his back again to keep it out of the way. He stumbled a little on the uneven ground as he went, unable to see it in the dim torchlight. Were those lumps bones? He had glanced upwards at one point and resolved not to again. He was completely taken by surprise when Shelob charged out of a side tunnel and slammed into him. Greenleaf was knocked flying and collided with the wall hard. He slid to the floor, stunned. Shelob picked him up with her forelegs and began wrapping him carefully in thick white strands. She would bite him with her paralysing venom if he began to struggle.  
  
Gimli had got some way up the passageway before realising that the Elf was no longer behind him. He turned back, hearing with a sick feeling the clicking sounds of the monster spider.  
  
"Legolas!" he called, but got no reply. There was not even an echo; the webs strung everywhere dampened any such reverberation. Worried, he ran back down the tunnel, torch held before him. He cursed as he saw Shelob in the torchlight, holding the Elf tightly. "Unhand him, horror of shadows!" he yelled, rushing in for the attack.  
  
Greenleaf was jolted into consciousness by Gimli's shout. He opened his eyes to see the hideous visage of Shelob right beside his face; her eyes –the ones not shot out earlier- staring back into his before turning to the dwarf. Gimli still had Greenleaf's knife and he used that, having no free hand to use an axe. He sliced at the spider's hard carapace, the same solid carapace that had turned aside many a blade before. But the Elven knife was not any blade, and Gimli scored a wound on the creature. Shelob reared up in pain, dropping Greenleaf as she did. The Elf fell, still bound in web, to land on the rocky ground. He struggled, but couldn't break the strands. Shelob raised her forelegs above Gimli. Greenleaf could see, by dint of twisting, that the Dwarf wasn't sure what to do next. His arms didn't have a long enough reach to wound Shelob with the knife while she towered high above him. But Greenleaf noticed one thing that Gimli had forgotten.  
  
"The torch!" he cried, wishing that he could move for himself. "Burn her!" He fought his bonds wildly, but got nowhere and could only watch.  
  
Gimli heard the Elf's shouted suggestion and acted on it, seeing no alternative. As Shelob descended her body towards him he held the burning torch high. The spider crashed onto it, getting a sudden faceful of flames. She screeched, drawing back fast. Gimli thrust the torch at her again, chasing her back until she turned and scuttled off down another small sidetunnel. The Dwarf watched her go, which didn't take long, and then knelt by Greenleaf's side. He cut the webs from the Elf's body and helped him to stand, holding him up when he staggered a little.  
  
"Are you all right?" Gimli asked. His arm was around the Elf's waist. "Did she bite you?"  
  
"No," Greenleaf replied, touching his head and then looking around. "We need to get out of here. She'll be back."  
  
"It's this way, I think." Gimli indicated up the passageway. "It gets a bit lighter and possibly less smelly.  
  
Greenleaf laughed. "Here's hoping."  
  
He detached himself from Gimli's support and took his knife from the Dwarf's offering hand. Together they hurried up the tunnel, hoping like anything that it was the way out. The smell about them –that of an unpleasant creature squatting in the caves for years- was cloying and overpowering. The cobwebs hanging from the walls were actually in several layers, having been laid over many years, frequently being covered by the next lot. Dust and filth covered the oldest, while the newest still glinted stickily. Maybe it was the arachnid equivalent of spring cleaning, Greenleaf mused.  
  
"Look!" Gimli said suddenly. "There's light ahead. We must be nearly out!"  
  
Greenleaf nodded, but his attention was drawn behind. "She follows," was all he said.  
  
They both began to run, not wishing to face the spider until they were at least out of the caves. The exit became visible ahead, a light in the dark. Greenleaf was ahead of Gimli, but just before he left the caves he stopped and drew back. He pushed Gimli into a short cul-de-sac of a tunnel.  
  
"Hide here," he instructed, "I have an idea. Just hold it for a minute."  
  
He left the Dwarf behind and ran up the tunnel and outside. He had seen the orcs there before, and the plan had just popped into his mind. Gimli watched from his hidey-hole, uncomfortably aware that Shelob drew ever closer. He saw the Elf run out then stop, and then look very panicked. A cry came from the Elf's lips and he turned and ran back into the tunnels. He darted into the tunnel where Gimli was, grinning like a maniac. Gimli tried to ask what was happening, but Greenleaf shushed him with a hand. The orcs rushed in, and then stopped in confusion.  
  
"Here, where did that Elf go?" one asked.  
  
"Further on, I suppose," another said, "down there."  
  
"But what about her?" the third asked in a jittery voice.  
  
Greenleaf decided to encourage them along. "Put out the light," he whispered, and picked up a rock. Creeping over, he threw the rock down the tunnel. It made a loud clatter.  
  
"He's down there!" the second orc yelled. "Come on!" All three orcs charged to where they thought the Elf was. Screams came back as they ran into Shelob.  
  
"Let's go," Greenleaf muttered. He and Gimli left the tunnels at speed, leaving the sounds of three screaming orcs and one rather pleased giant spider behind gladly. They hurried up the path a little way before they felt they could safely stop for a rest. Two boulders served as seats for the pair. Gimli looked across at Greenleaf and began laughing, chuckling in his deep voice.  
  
"What?" Greenleaf asked. "What's so funny, Dwarf?" He cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"You, Elf," Gimli responded, emphasising the second word. "Have you seen the state of yourself?"  
  
Greenleaf had to admit that he did look a mess. Long strands of cobweb still clung to his clothing and hair, mostly covered in dust and dirt. He pulled at them, removing as many as he could. Some of them were stuck quite firmly and he had to cut them off as best he could. The ones that had adhered to his skin he tugged off with quick hard yanks, ignoring the sting that accompanied each removal. He combed his fingers through his hair, completely undoing one braid to unsnarl it. He was redoing it when he noticed Gimli watching him.  
  
"My father always told me that Elves were finicky," the Dwarf said.  
  
"There are a few things I could say about smelly Dwarves," Greenleaf retorted, though with no malice in it.  
  
"Smelly?" Gimli questioned. "I think not. That's just natural body odour, that is. Perfectly normal. I've known humans who've smelt worse."  
  
"Too true," Greenleaf agreed, "they can be less fragrant than desired. Though not all of them." He thought for a moment of Aragorn, remembering the Man as he had been when they were together at Isengard. And then he remembered how he had been when they left; bruised, bandaged and unconscious. Someone had to pay for that. "Come on," he said, "let's get moving."  
  
They stood and continued up the path, not at all eager to remain near Shelob's lair. A tall, partially crumbled tower stood guard a little way up the pass. It had obviously been built by Men long ago, out of the white stone they used in so much of their architecture at that time. But now it had been commandeered by the orcs to watch this possible entrance to their land. Black marks marred the white exterior while unpleasant-looking plants straggled up the sides. Smoke rose from the top, trailing brazenly away into the sky. A group of three orcs sat outside. Though they held their weapons they did not seem particularly alert.  
  
"We just need to get by them, right?" Gimli asked as they stopped just out of sight. "For the sake of secrecy and all that. Got any bright ideas?"  
  
"Well, I played decoy last time," Greenleaf whispered back, grinning.  
  
"I didn't ask you to," Gimli pointed out, "anyway, I'd have thought that we shouldn't be seen."  
  
"Of course," Greenleaf replied, "I was joking. But some distraction would be in order. Let me think about it for a moment."  
  
He looked around the corner cautiously. The path passed to the right of the tower, curving only slightly around it. This meant that it was very narrow at that point, and impossible to walk it unnoticed while the guards sat there. The crag to the left was sheer, and the tower was built straight onto it. It would be just about possible for an Elf to climb it, but not a Dwarf.  
  
"Gimli," Greenleaf suddenly asked, "do you still have some of that rather excellent blasting powder that you liberated from Moria?"  
  
"Aye, I do," the Dwarf replied, wondering why it was needed.  
  
"Give it to me and wait here. Be prepared to run."  
  
A little bemused, Gimli did so, and watched as Greenleaf crept along the crag foot, heading for the tower. His Lorién stealth cloak hid him from any casual glances, not that the guards were looking his way anyway. They were too busy playing cards, it seemed. The Elf began to climb up where the tower joined the rock, hands and feet finding seemingly invisible holds. Partway up he stopped and pulled the small bag from his belt. He tipped about two handfuls of the powder onto a rag then gathered the corners and tied them up. He pushed the makeshift bag into a niche in the stonework and laid a short trail of the powder away from it. This he lit the end of with a spark from his flints.  
  
Greenleaf rejoined Gimli as fast as he could. "Be ready," he whispered, and they both stood poised, waiting for the explosion.  
  
It wasn't long in coming. There was a loud bang, accompanied by falling stone and a large cloud of smoke. The orcs leapt up, their card game momentarily forgotten. They made a few confused-sounding noises and loped off inside the tower to see what had happened. That was what Greenleaf and Gimli had been waiting for. They were off straight away, running down the path. They didn't stop running until they were quite some way away from the tower and it became clear that the orcs weren't following.  
  
They stopped for a brief rest partway down, when they could see Mordor spread before them. Orodruin, the mountain of fire, was obvious before them, its top glowing redly.  
  
"Talk about hiding in plain sight," Gimli commented. He stood his axe on the floor and rested his arm on it.  
  
"Indeed," Greenleaf agreed, and looked up at the sky. "We'll wait until night before we go across there. It'll be a clear night with good moonlight, but we'd be easier to see in the day."  
  
"And then over the plateau and into Mount Doom," said Gimli, "I can hardly wait."  
  
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	10. For Your Eye Only

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Well, from here on in it all goes off, figuratively and literally speaking. Not much else to say. The little two-arrow trick in the last chapter was actually borrowed from 'Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves' (which I only watched for Alan Rickman). I'd actually forgotten about that bit in FOTR.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the second (unexpected) chapter of 'Kill Me Tomorrow'! Particular congratulations go to Shemyaza1 for recognising my little Dad's Army references.  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: I'm sure you made a terrifying Wraith (and that's a compliment, I think). What about Sauron's eye? Well, look at the chapter title then read on (heh heh). The first double-digit chapter indeed, and this is already my longest fic!  
  
Nemo Returning: I believe I mentioned how they'll destroy this mountain. If not, well, you'll just have to wait. Why do you think that G and U said it? And yes, you are a corrupting influence, very much so (the evilness of Harry, etc.).  
  
Idlewild: Confession time here. I had never read The Spy Who Loved Me. Having realised this, I went and pulled it off my shelf (I have the whole pile, all in order, my pride and joy) and read it in two days. I can see why you like it so much (having melted into a puddle after reading it). I'm glad you liked Welch, I'm rather fond of him myself. I have vague plans for him in the future, I hope. You know, whenever I read in James Bond where he goes to Idlewild airport, I always think of you.  
  
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Chapter 10: For Your Eye Only  
  
There was no easy path across the Plateau of Gorgoroth, or if there was then they didn't see it. All that could be seen between the foot of the Ephel Dúath and the great bulk of Orodruin was a huge flat area, littered with large boulders, smaller rocks and stagnant pools. The moon shone down on it all, leaving dark shadows and bright reflections in the water. Greenleaf and Gimli picked their way across the plateau with as much speed as they could manage over the difficult terrain.  
  
"Ouch," Gimli muttered, stumbling for the umpteenth time.  
  
Greenleaf looked at him in mild concern, and then remembered to be surprised at himself for doing so. He kept catching himself forgetting that Gimli was a Dwarf, not thinking about the differences between them. It was a decidedly odd feeling for someone who had been brought up as he had: in absolute hatred, or at least low tolerance of the entire race of Dwarves. This is what Men call growing up, he decided, the rebelling-against-your- parents stage. Though he had had arguments with his father in his time, particularly concerning his choice of career, the idea that he needed a job on the first place, and why didn't he just settle down with a pretty Elf maiden like most sensible Elves. Greenleaf sighed. Sometimes his father treated him as if he was a mere Elfling, and this irked the Elven secret agent more than a little.  
  
So distracted was he by these thoughts that he almost slipped headlong into a rather repugnant-smelling pool when his foot caught on a rock. He stopped himself as gracefully as was possible with his other foot, but was still irritated for it. Gimli, to his credit, said nothing, due either to tact or self-preservation. They continued on doggedly.  
  
"Down!" Greenleaf hissed suddenly. He dropped to the ground and Gimli followed suit. They both pulled their cloaks over to hide them. Red light began to glow on the area they lay on, emanating from the very top of Orodruin. It was searching the plateau, and seemed to linger for far too long where they were. Greenleaf stared at the ground beneath his face, feeling the heat of the gaze on his back and silently willing it to move on. His hair fell in tendrils around his face, curling slightly in the damp night air. They were watched for what felt like an age, time seemingly slowing down just to torture them. The heat bore down, and both were convinced that they'd been seen and orcs were being sent out even now.  
  
But finally it moved on, leaving Greenleaf and Gimli in cool, blessed darkness, and continuing its southerly sweep. They stood quickly, wanting to reach the mountain before it got light.  
  
"What was that?" Gimli asked, touching his axe for reassurance. "Creepy damn thing. I'd swear it was watching us."  
  
"It was probably looking for us," Greenleaf said, "or anyone coming this way. It's Sauron's surveillance system. It takes the form of a huge red eye, staring out over the plateau."  
  
"Well, I don't think it saw us," Gimli said, "being as it moved on."  
  
"Either that or he's trying to make us think that," Greenleaf answered, not allowing complacency, "but whichever it is, we need to move on."  
  
They did so, continuing to make their way steadily across to the great volcano ahead. Most of the time the temperature had been cold –if he had been a man Greenleaf knew he would have been shivering- and the pale moonlight had added to the bleak, chilly feeling. But as they drew nearer they began to feel the heat from the fires within the mountain, and the deep red glow from its top began to overlay the delicate silver, like the red sun that rises after a battle.  
  
"It'll be warm inside," Gimli commented, "like a forge or something, I expect."  
  
Little more was said until they reached the foot of Orodruin and stood looking up at the great dark shape crowned with fire. It was an intimidating sight, to say the least.  
  
"Of all the places to have a lair," Gimli said, "this has definitely got to be the most impressive. Rather knocks Erebor into a cocked hat, I'd say."  
  
"Bit flashy for my tastes," Greenleaf said, and a smile crept over his face, "I mean, just look at it. Ostentatious, if you ask me. All these megalomaniacs have to have enormous places to hide in, the bigger the better. Mine's bigger than yours and all that. I think they're all trying to play on the 'you know what they say about folks with big hands' thing."  
  
"Big gloves?" Gimli asked innocently.  
  
"That's the one," Greenleaf answered. "Now, how do you reckon we should get into this place?"  
  
"Hmm." Gimli stroked his beard. "Well, there'll be the obvious way that the orcs go in by, but that'll be pretty heavily guarded. But there's bound to be smaller ways in and out, and less used ones, particularly as this is a secret hideout. Do you see anything up there with those keen Elven eyes of yours that looks like a tunnel entrance?"  
  
"Great," Greenleaf muttered, "more tunnels." He turned to examine the mountainside above. The main entrance was away to their left, an obvious dark hole cut into the rock. Orc guards were visible around it. Greenleaf and Gimli had been careful to stay out of sight in the shadows. Greenleaf gazed up at the rocky slopes away from the entrance.  
  
"There," he said, pointing, "I think. That dark patch doesn't look like all shadow to me."  
  
They scrambled up the incline, always aware of the orcs that stood guard only a short way to their left. The dark patch was under a ledge, and it was indeed a tunnel. Unfortunately it was too small for either of them to fit into.  
  
"Don't worry, lad," Gimli consoled, patting the Elf's arm, "the shadows made it look bigger. There'll be others around."  
  
"Are you being patronising, Dwarf?" Greenleaf asked, scowling dangerously. "You shouldn't; it's bad for your health."  
  
"And, it seems, also bad for my Elf," Gimli muttered under his breath.  
  
"And don't call me 'lad'," Greenleaf continued, ignoring the comment, "I think you'll find I'm rather older than you."  
  
Gimli only grinned, and Greenleaf realised he'd been got, just like they loved to do to Haldir. Damn it, he thought, I'm not going to let the Dwarf get a rise out of me again.  
  
"Over there," he said, indicating further right.  
  
They went that way. Gimli slid and almost fell on a particularly gravely stretch, but Greenleaf caught him by the arm.  
  
"This volcano hasn't properly erupted in a while, has it?" Gimli asked, a minute or two later.  
  
"No, it hasn't, as far as I know. Why do you ask?"  
  
"The rock would be a lot smoother; it'd be cooled lava. And there wouldn't be these little tunnels like that one back there. It's too small to have been dug out by orcs any time recently, so it must have been there for some time." Gimli gave the mountain a calculating look. "Could help us if we set an eruption off."  
  
"Could do," Greenleaf agreed, "but we'll save that for when we're inside." He stopped by the cave he had pointed out before. "Is that big enough, Master Dwarf?"  
  
"It would seem so," Gimli answered, bending to look in. "I can't guarantee that it'll be the same inside though."  
  
"We won't know until we have a look," Greenleaf said. He gestured before him politely. "After you. You're the expert, after all."  
  
Gimli snorted, but didn't deny the statement. He stepped into the tunnel entrance, and Greenleaf followed. It was fairly high, enough for the Elf to stand and not bump his head. He reached up with one hand and could just feel the roof with his fingertips. He kept his hand at about the level of his eyes as they moved forward, not wishing to knock himself silly if the height of the roof suddenly dropped. They both went fairly slowly, testing each step for fear of pitfalls or loose rocks. The tunnel remained fairly steady as time wore on, the floor level and height regular. Their only worry came when they heard a clanking sound coming towards them. It was an orc.  
  
Greenleaf and Gimli darted to opposite sides of the tunnel, pressing themselves up against the walls and hoping that the creature would not notice them. It was hurrying down the tunnel fairly fast, muttering to itself.  
  
"Late for guard duty, they says," it was chattering, "punishment, they says. Like anybeast ever uses this way in the first place..."  
  
Its voice faded away as it passed Greenleaf and Gimli. When its footsteps had died away completely they detached themselves from the walls.  
  
"Lucky for us he wasn't at his post," Gimli said.  
  
"We would have dealt with him if he had been," Greenleaf told him, "I never rely on luck."  
  
He thought on this as they continued on. It wasn't entirely true; there were times when luck had played a huge part in his successes. But as far as possible he didn't rely on it, preferring to pit his own wits and skill against the situation. Relying on luck made you a gambler, and even good gamblers know that their run of luck had to end someday. Saruman had been a gambler whose luck had finally run out, and now he was dead. Greenleaf gave a mental headshake. Why did that old wizard enter his thoughts?  
  
"Here we are," Gimli whispered, stopping abruptly. Just ahead of him the tunnel opened up into a large cavern, lit by torches. A few orcs hurried about, but the cavern was mostly filled with weapons. Rough-cut shields lined one wall and also lay stacked in front. Spears and javelins leant against another wall, all different lengths and styles.  
  
"It really stinks of orcs in here," Greenleaf commented, "I suppose it's because of all the heat. Sauron must have them working really hard to produce all that."  
  
Gimli nodded, and they proceeded to follow the plan they had agreed on. Hoods up and keeping to the shadows, they crept round the edge of the cavern, keeping out of sight of the orcs moving around. They needed to infiltrate to the very heart of the volcano, to the centre of Sauron's operation, to the Dark Lord himself. They didn't know where he was, but on the plus side he didn't know where they were, or even that they were there at all hopefully. But still they were wary. Sauron was reputed to have an efficient surveillance system, both outside and in. If they were spotted then it would make their task that much harder. It was definitely one thing that they didn't want.  
  
They left the huge armoury, going through one of the larger corridors. The width of it would allow them to stay out of the way of any orcs, which would not be possible in one of the smaller corridors. It was dark, but a faint red glow came from ahead, growing brighter the closer they got to it. The heat was increasing too, radiating from something before them. An Uruk- hai came striding past, followed by an orc. Neither even glanced to the sides, and consequently didn't see Greenleaf and Gimli. The Elf and the Dwarf continued on.  
  
It wasn't long before they reached the end of the corridor. They looked out from the end to see another large cavern, larger than the armoury. At one end there was a wide gap between the edge of the ground and the wall. In place of solid rock floor was a river of molten lava, the heat of which must have been blistering close to. Orcs were at the edge, using the heat as a forge. What exactly they were making was unclear, but it obviously required much work. The creatures took it in shifts; as soon as one finished his piece it stepped back and another took its place. It was too hot for anyone to stay that close for any length of time. The orcs themselves were clad only in loincloths, but they still glistened with sweat.  
  
Occasional sprays of lava were thrown into the air, sometimes causing the orcs to leap back. One orc was caught on the chest and he stumbled back screaming until another orc led him off down one of the corridors to the side. One or two sniggered, but the rest continued working, as if this was an everyday occurrence. It probably was. The entire cavern, though lit by the glowing lava, was still dark, and the heat was oppressive. The noise of the orcs' work was tremendous; the hammering was picked up and thrown around the walls in a huge echo, each beat repeated many times before finally being allowed to die away. Knowing that he would not be heard over the din, Gimli tugged on Greenleaf's sleeve and indicated to another corridor, round to the right of where they were. The pair hurried along beside the wall, keeping out of sight. Once in the corridor and round a corner it was much quieter.  
  
"That wasn't weapons they were making in there," Greenleaf said, "some of those pieces were in rather odd shapes."  
  
"And the orcs seemed to be taking rather a lot of care over them," Gimli agreed, "I mean, they were being very precise. They're usually quite slapdash with their weapons."  
  
He looked down the corridor. It was long but not as dark as the last. Every so often torches were bracketed to the walls. Going further along, keeping their footsteps quiet, they came across an open doorway in the side. Beyond it was a small room, well lit and empty. There were a couple of chairs and a table, on which were some sheets of paper. Greenleaf went in cautiously and Gimli followed. Satisfied that there were no enemies hiding behind the door, they turned their attention to the papers on the table. A paperweight, a glass affair with pressed flowers in the centre, held them down. Greenleaf gave it an askance look before moving it aside. Sauron didn't seem to be a pressed flowers sort of person. He looked at the papers.  
  
They were plans, and the Elf's eyes grew wide as he read. So this was what Sauron was planning.  
  
A title was inscribed at the head of the page in the curling Black Script; it read 'War Machine'. The drafted blueprints below were enough to give Greenleaf a terrifying indication of the Dark Lord's ideas. They showed a giant metallic structure, made of many metal parts and set on several metal wheels. Two holes on the front were marked as places for shooting out flame, worked by bellows on the inside. It looked like it would be able to smash into walls and knock them down, or batter through doors. The oddest thing was at the back, what appeared to be the propulsion system. Greenleaf didn't understand it all, but one bit caught his eye. It referred to a ring, undoubtedly the very same one that he had retrieved from Isengard. It seemed, according to the writings, that Sauron had created that part personally, filling it with his power. It was the final component of the machine, marked with the legend 'ignition', and it was the bit that started the propulsion. It was a one-off item; Sauron would never be able to make another.  
  
"This is ... monstrous," Gimli said finally. "Sauron could create a massacre in battle with that. It would be nigh on impossible to destroy."  
  
Greenleaf nodded, and his thoughts fell back to the orcs they had seen earlier. Something suddenly occurred to him. "Ai!" he gasped. "He doesn't mean to have just one machine. He means to have an entire army of them!" He stared at the pages, not seeing the plans but instead imagining the horrors that could be wrought on the battlefield with such a device. "He has the orcs crating the parts in mass amounts. He probably plans to have hundreds of them. No army could stand up to such a force!"  
  
He and Gimli looked at each other, both horrified by the prospect. Neither really knew what more to say, but were saved the trouble by something distracting them. A light appeared above the doorway, focussing slowly into a red eye, which glared down at them.  
  
"We've been spotted!" Gimli cried.  
  
Greenleaf snatched up the paperweight from the table and threw it straight on target at the eye. It shattered against the stone and the eye vanished, winked out like a candle flame.  
  
"Come on!" Greenleaf said. "This place'll be swarming with orcs soon. Let's go! We should find somewhere to hide!"  
  
They ran down the corridor, hearing orcs approaching from behind. Shouts indicated that the creatures had seen them, and both pursuers and pursued increased their paces. When they reached a junction Gimli pulled Greenleaf down the left hand way. It was dark, with no torches. They ran a little way then stopped, pressing themselves against the wall. The group of orcs charged past in the darkness. Greenleaf and Gimli headed back the other way, going back to the junction and taking the right hand way. Unfortunately, it ended abruptly in a cavern, one that was filled with orcs. They turned back, but were faced by more orcs coming the other way.  
  
Unslinging his bow with the ease of many years' practice, Greenleaf felled two straight away, but there were too many in that short stretch, and he and Gimli were pushed back into the cavern. A great roar came up from the orcs as Elf and Dwarf fell into their midst. They fell on them with delight; though the cries turned to pain for some when the pair began to fight. Gimli's axe cleaved attackers into pieces, swinging in arcs about him. He shouted a Dwarvish battle cry, the harsh consonants of his language ringing out. Greenleaf, separated from him, heard and made a definite mental note to learn some Dwarvish. It was certainly a powerful language.  
  
The Elf cleared several orcs with a sweep of his bow, using it as a staff. Some fell to the ground and were trampled by others, all eager to be the one that got the Elf. Greenleaf knocked back as many as he could, but they were soon too close for him to use his bow. He hung it on his quiver in a moment and unsheathed his knife. Many orcs were dead before they'd even noticed; all prey to his knife, which seemed to be moving faster than sight. He never stayed still for a second, not giving the orcs any form of target to focus on. A blade came at his head and he ducked, parrying another aimed at his side. The perpetrators of the attacks were dead moments later.  
  
Then a new threat came into play. A crude, black-feathered arrow just missed Greenleaf, and he whirled to see where it had come from. On a raised part of the floor stood three Uruk-hai, each armed with a bow and arrows. One grinned at the Elf as he raised his bow and fired again. Greenleaf pulled an orc over in front of himself just in time, and was rewarded by the orc's eyes bulging in pain as the arrow hit it square on the back. He finished it with his knife, dropping the carcass and spinning to meet an attack from behind. But even as he did one of the more foolhardy orcs threw themselves on top of him. It ended up dead, but Greenleaf ended up on the floor under the body. The orcs all piled forward.  
  
"Fools!" a voice rang out. It was a horrible voice, but Greenleaf couldn't see whom it belonged to. Every syllable sent shivers down him. "I want Elf alive!"  
  
Even as the words penetrated his mind, Greenleaf realised that this gave him an advantage. He was still fighting to kill; the orcs were not. He heaved the corpse off of himself and became a blur of motion, felling orcs left, right and centre. A quick glance told him that Gimli was doing the same, though the orcs would have had no such compunction in killing him. Greenleaf, aware of the orc archers, vaulted over one of the larger orcs and literally ran over the heads and shoulders of the orcs crowded behind. One had the presence of mind to grab his ankle; he turned and slew it instantly. With one final leap he was at the edge of the cavern, landing perfectly on a lump of rock protruding from the wall and re-sheathing his knife in the same smooth movement. His bow was in his hands and two of the archers shot down in moments. He dodged a shot from the third and felled him in his next breath.  
  
Pausing only for a moment, Greenleaf looked around to see who had given the command earlier. He could see no one, but for a dark shape in the shadows. There was no time to ponder it though, as the orcs were converging on him, and he didn't have enough arrows for them all. Looking across he could see, though the Dwarf probably could not, that Gimli had only a few orcs between him and escape down a corridor. Greenleaf himself was surrounded, only the wall at his back. Three quick arrows cleared a path for the Dwarf. Gimli looked back at Greenleaf after noticing where the arrows had come from. He looked reluctant to leave the Elf in the thick of it.  
  
"Go!" Greenleaf yelled, but was yanked off his perch before he could see whether the Dwarf had followed his advice or not.  
  
He fought wildly, using fist and feet as well as his knife. Many orcs fell, but there were always more there to take their places. Eventually sheer weight of numbers won through. Greenleaf felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and he pitched forwards. He just saw orc feet all around him before everything went black.  
  
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	11. Running The Gauntlet

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: I think I got most of my inspiration for this one from 'Live and Let Die', though I could be wrong. Oh, wait, a lot came from the film of 'Dr. No' as well. I haven't seen that one in far too long.  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: multiple rings? Ah, no. I'm pretty sure I mentioned that somewhere, maybe in this chapter. And if you think I was evil before, just you wait...  
  
Nemo Returning: who's talking about ends? There're another four chapters after this one! And he has to get captured, it's what secret agents seem to do the whole time (well, Bond always does). And maybe I'm a little mean to dear old Greenleaf. It's only because I love him so.

Idlewild: damn good way to get a screen name, I say. Yes, I have a weakness for old jokes. I didn't actually think of the whole Tolkien-hating-mechanisation thing. I've been studying various wars lately and that's where they came from. (And I am so proud of that chapter title!)  
  
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Chapter 11. Running the Gauntlet  
  
Greenleaf's first thought on waking was "I've got to stop doing this". Returning to consciousness in a cell was not one of his favourite moments in life, particularly when his head felt as if a cave troll was dancing in it. He sat up slowly, almost falling straight back as light exploded behind his eyes. He put his hand up to his head gingerly. The back of it felt sticky, and in the dim light Greenleaf saw that a dark substance, probably blood, had come away on his fingers. With a groan, he pulled himself to his feet and went to the door.  
  
There was no window in it; the only light came from round the edges. There was no handle, and Greenleaf felt all the way round the door before concluding that there was no keyhole on his side either. He pulled at the edges but the door was definitely locked, and his fingers would not fit properly into the gap. He sighed and sat down again on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. With his knees drawn up to his chest he rested his aching head on them and considered his position.  
  
He was locked in a small cell, from which there seemed to be no way out –the door being impassable. But running in his mind –besides the cave troll, who now seemed to have invited friends- was an old axiom: "never build a dungeon you cannot get out of". Sauron was surely too crafty to ignore that. Therefore there had to be a way out, but it was too dark to see it properly, or at all.  
  
Greenleaf unfolded himself and lay across the centre of the floor, spreading his arms wide. The stone was cold against his back, but he ignored it. He lay perfectly still, until he pinpointed a draught over his right hand, from the side opposite to the door. He rose and crouched by the wall, touching it with his hands, feeling across the stones. He moved slowly and methodically up the wall, covering every inch and finally stopping when his fingertips felt the cold metal of a grate.  
  
He pulled at it, but the frame wouldn't give. Tracing the edge, he found that there were only four screws holding it in place. He took out a small flat piece of metal from his tunic, glad that they hadn't removed that from him. His weapons were gone, which was only to be expected. Working fast, he removed the screws, holding the grate with one hand as he did and easing it to the floor, keeping it as quiet as possible. He felt the floor of the vent and found that it was horizontal. Deciding that anything was better than sitting around, it was a simple move for Greenleaf to pull himself up and in. In doing so though, he failed to notice the red eye that appeared for an instant in a corner then vanished again.  
  
Once up, he crawled along the vent, wanting to be as far from the cell as possible by the time somebody came to see him and he found out the reason why he was wanted alive. He was fairly sure it wouldn't be a pleasant reason, and that he was well out of it. The vent was made of metal, cold beneath his hands and knees. He crawled on, following the vent as it twisted and turned but always stayed on the level. There was always the possibility, he realised, that his captors wanted him to do this and would be waiting at the other end, but he would rather be up and moving than sitting like a rat in a trap.  
  
The change beneath him was imperceptible at first, changing so gradually that it was unnoticeable until the metal beneath Greenleaf's hands grew too hot to touch. He cursed quietly and crouched back on his heels, hurriedly stripping off his tunic and using it to wrap around his hands as protection. He moved on quickly before the soles of his boots began to melt or similar. The heat grew more intense as he went along, and the way narrower. His knees felt as if they were burning, so he went on hands and feet, bent over extremely uncomfortably. He was even beginning to sweat, unusually for him. He blinked it out of his eyes in irritation. It wasn't long before the vent was too narrow to get through without most of his body touching the sides. His back, now bare, scraped against the burning metal. His crawl became agonisingly slow and seemed to go on forever.  
  
Forever that was until the passage began mercifully to widen again, and a loud rumbling sound came from behind Greenleaf. He turned his head, not stopping due to the heat, but was unable to see what it was. The curve of the vent shielded his view and his hair now fell in his face, as he had no free hand to push it back. Soon though it was painfully obvious.  
  
A great rush of water hit him full force, and there was no resisting it. His breath knocked out of him, Greenleaf was carried along the vent, buffeted and spun by the water. The coolness was a respite from the former blistering heat, but even the water had begun to heat up, though not yet enough to be painful. It was still cool on his burns, which tingled unpleasantly.  
  
It must be the volcano's heat, Greenleaf realised, but it shouldn't get hot enough to boil the water. That sort of heat would melt the vent, surely. At least, he hoped he was right on that.  
  
He had lost any sense of direction he might have had. Even if he had known where the cell was in the first place, it probably wouldn't have helped. Caves this deep underground were not his speciality. Since leaving the cell the vent had gone in several directions, and now, dragged along by the water, he had no hope of even remembering the turns. At every corner he was slammed jarringly into the side. He was going to end up with some lovely bruises to go with the burns he had gained earlier. He would also get himself knocked out if he wasn't careful, and that would only lead to him getting drowned or something, a most ignoble end.  
  
Quickly stretching out his legs, he pressed his back to the side and tried to jam himself against the walls of the vent. They were cooler now, and he managed to stop his progress. The water still rushed by, pulling hard at his resisting body. The flow seemed to have become stronger, or perhaps it was just his legs not being able to take the strain. It had to end soon, but the torrent seemed constant. Greenleaf gritted his teeth, pressing all the harder with his legs, but gradually he was sliding along, unable to stop. His body gave way with weariness and he was yanked along again by the speeding water.  
  
His headlong rush was brought to a halt abruptly at a large metal grate, set square across the vent. The water poured through, pinning Greenleaf to it with the sheer weight. He couldn't catch his breath as it all pounded against him. Stars began to appear at the edge of his vision as the water kept coming.  
  
And then it stopped. The water lessened and Greenleaf dropped to the floor as the last trickles escaped. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and his body trembled as he got to his knees. He felt horribly weak after the onslaught; not a feeling he relished. The vent he had been following was at an end, with a metal wall in which the grate was set. Nothing was visible beyond, only darkness. At each side, only just visible in the dim light, there was another vent. Greenleaf sank back on his heels, squeezing the water out of his hair.  
  
Hope that wasn't bathwater or anything like that, he thought. Now where?  
  
He weighed up his options, which were, to all observations, identical. It was too dark to see down either vent, so the choice essentially boiled down to left or right. Still suspicious of his apparent escape route, Greenleaf tried to decide which way he would be expected to go. Most people favoured their right hands, so his automatic response would be expected to be to turn right, particularly if he was disorientated.  
  
Taking that into account he took the left hand vent, crawling along it and wondering if there would be any more traps. His whole body ached, and his knees stung as they pressed against the floor. His chosen passage seemed normal enough as he continued along, but he was ever on the alert. Then the vent ended abruptly in a blank metal wall. Greenleaf bumped right into it, unable to see it in the dark. He stopped and rubbed his cheek where he had hit it. Using his fingers, he felt the wall in his way. It was clear that he couldn't get through. Turning, he made his way back, hoping that the other way wasn't the same. If he had to crawl all the way back to the cell then he was certain that someone, or something, would be waiting for him. And that would just be too humiliating.  
  
He was almost back at the end of the second vent when something made him stop. There was a faint light ahead –he presumed it to be coming from a gap, or maybe the grate- and it showed him a crouching black shape in the vent before him. There was only enough time for a fleeting impression of teeth and claws before it was on him. It was small but fast. Its claws seized his shoulders as the force of its leap pushed the Elf to the floor. Greenleaf grabbed at the creature, determined not to allow it to reach his neck with its teeth. He flung it away down the vent, rolling to his feet after in an easy movement. He crouched, completely still, uneasily waiting for the next attack that he wouldn't be able to see in the dark.  
  
A faint scuttling was the only clue before the creature pounced again. Its teeth bit into his side, forcing a cry from the Elf. He grabbed at it again, hissing as its claws sliced his hands. He didn't know what it was, but was more concerned with getting it off of him. He hauled it up, feeling his skin tear as its teeth were pulled out of his flesh and slammed it hard against the wall. It squeaked then attacked his hand with renewed ferocity. Wanting to get rid of it fast he bashed it into the wall again and again, ignoring the pain in his hand. Finally, after what seemed like far too long, it went limp. Greenleaf knocked it on the side a few more times for good measure, and then dropped it to the floor.  
  
He examined it as best he could for a moment then carried on. It was no creature that he recognised, and for some reason it reminded him of the fish-like creatures that Saruman had kept in a tank in Orthanc, probably due to its unrecognisable shape, sharp bits and general viciousness. He crawled back along the vent, feeling blood running over his hand. Without pausing he crossed the main vent, where there was still water on the floor, and entered the right hand vent, extra wary for any nasty beasties being sent his way. He was now convinced that Sauron knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, and this made him even more cautious. The different traps weren't coincidental, and even if they were it didn't hurt to be a little paranoid. It had never done him any harm in the past.  
  
So when the vent began to slope downwards he wasn't really surprised, but was still concerned. The metal was smooth and his hands were beginning to slide, lubricated by water and blood. He held his arms out to the side, holding himself steady by bracing them against the walls as best he could. Slowly and carefully he began to work his way onwards as the gradient became increasingly steeper. Eventually it became vertical, and Greenleaf paused for a moment as he changed his position. He pressed his back against one side and his feet on the other, and kept his hands against the other two sides. It was hard going, lowering himself down bit by bit, and a great strain on his already over-tasked legs. They shook uncontrollably at one point, forcing him to stop and rest. It was tense and awkward, but he couldn't just let himself drop. He didn't know what was at the bottom.  
  
Step by step he continued his way down, willing his legs not to shake further or give way. He was, effectively, walking backwards in small steps, sliding his back as he went. The remains of his tunic had been washed away earlier and the burns on his back rubbed against the metal sides. The soaking he had received had made his breeches cling to his skin, chilling his skin despite his usual impervious nature to such feeling. His boots slipped, giving him a heart-stopping moment before he caught himself, stopping his fall by pressing his arms hard against the sides before getting his legs back up. He paused, breathing heavily and trying to control his near panic. Come on, he scolded himself, get a hold on yourself. You can do this, just keep going. It can't be much further. He dropped his head for a moment, shutting his eyes. At least he could be sure that he wasn't making his way down into some lava-filled area of Orodruin. He'd be feeling the heat already by now if he were.  
  
He opened his eyes, and realised that he had slid someway down the vent. The metal sides were coated in some slippery substance, and no matter how hard he pushed against them he couldn't stop himself. His feet skidded downwards, and it was too late to do anything. He fell down the vent.  
  
His fall gathered speed. His hair whipped into his face and he knocked into the sides on the way down. A brief moment of panic flashed into his mind, but he pushed it away. Steeling his resolve, he abruptly jammed his arms and legs outwards, attempting to halt his descent. But immediately he pulled them back in, unable to stop a choked scream. Sharp blades had been set into the walls and they had sliced cruelly into his skin. He fell faster and faster, his fall accelerating. He kept hitting the sides, cutting his skin each time. The vent suddenly curved beneath him and he crashed into the curve. His momentum sent him tumbling on.  
  
Greenleaf landed hard on a rocky floor, again having the breath knocked out of him. He sprawled, unable to control his tired limbs and body as he hit the ground. He only saw that he was in a cave –no surprise there- before he was knocked on the head from behind. Not again, he thought before passing out.  
  
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"Go!" the Elf had shouted at him, but Gimli hadn't wanted to comply. It would have meant leaving Greenleaf behind to the orcs. But as Gimli saw his companion being pulled down he realised why. The orcs actually wanted him dead, whereas they were just trying to capture the Elf. Greenleaf was trying to get the Dwarf out, obviously having seen that they'd never both get out. He was prepared to face capture to stop Gimli getting killed, and that wasn't something that the Dwarf could refuse.  
  
Sending off a wave of orcs with an axe swing, he ran for the edge of the cavern. An orc lunged at him, but he cut it down in mid-stride, avoiding its falling body as he ran. He reached the end of one corridor and paused to look back. He saw Greenleaf just vanishing beneath a group of orcs, and had to fight his sudden urge to run back in and fight. He couldn't achieve anything alone. Cursing, he ran on, hearing the sounds of pursuit behind him. Damn that Elf! He didn't want to feel guilty about leaving him behind.  
  
Roars and grunts echoed at his back. The orcs were after him and gaining fast. Gimli heightened his pace, wishing that he had longer legs. The corridor seemed to go on forever, with blank walls on both sides, and it was fairly well lit. Abruptly, there was a curve and just beyond it was a fork, which Gimli welcomed. Pausing only momentarily, he took the left fork, the badly illuminated one. He held his axe still on his belt as he went, trying to ensure that he went as quietly as possible. Behind, the orcs halted, unsure at first of which way to take. The curve in the passage had hidden their view of the Dwarf and consequently they hadn't seen which way he had taken.  
  
"Where'd 'e go?" one of them hissed, squinting first down one way and then the other. "I want to get that hairy little newt!"  
  
The other orcs were all equally confused, and spent precious time dithering around. It took the arrival of one of the Uruk-hai to goad them into action.  
  
"Get on with it, you horrible lot!" it yelled, kicking one. "Split up, idiots! There's enough of you to cover both tunnels!"  
  
But by the time they got going again, Gimli was long gone. He had taken several more turns and any pursuers would now find it very difficult to find him. He had memorised his route as he went. Not that it would help him find the Elf, he thought glumly. If they had caught him then they'd probably dragged him off somewhere. He decided that the best thing would be to hunt around as much as he could. He stopped for a minute in a niche, running through the way he had taken in his mind. Having counted up turns and estimated distances, he deduced that he was somewhere on the Northeastern side of the mountain, taking the curvature into account.  
  
He thought for a moment, brow creased, and then continued along the corridor he was on. At the next junction he went right; the way that he hoped led further into the volcano. His flight had taken him fairly close to the outer edge, which Gimli could tell partially from the chill air, rather than the heat closer to the centre. The outer passages were emptier, more devoid of any activity. If he were to find anything then it would be further in.  
  
Continuing on, he kept thinking about what had happened. Why had they –whomever it was who had given that order- wanted the Elf anyway? It didn't figure that it would be for anything good. And why hadn't they wanted him? It couldn't be that he hadn't been seen; the surveillance system couldn't have missed him, despite his short stature. Perhaps they just didn't really care about what happened to a lowly Dwarf, or didn't deign him to be important enough. That would be the most likely. Typical of the taller races, thought Gimli with a scowl. But despite his disdain for such "tall folks", Gimli found himself worrying about his companion, and becoming more firmly resolved to find him.  
  
The corridor he was following met with four others at a junction. Two obviously were part of the same path and were lit quite well. Gimli avoided these not wanting to be spotted. He took the right most of the two. Any watcher would only have seen a dark shape dart across the junction and vanish into the darkness again. Dwarves, though not renowned for it, could be surreptitious and unseen when they wished it, particularly when in their natural element: caves. Not to mention deadly over short distances.  
  
It was only a short distance before the corridor opened out into a cavern. When Gimli saw what it contained, his jaw dropped open.  
  
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(Note: It's an orc. I know that "there's" is wrong, but orcs don't good grammar have. Savvy?)


	12. Black and White

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Well, unfortunately this is unbeta'd, as, well, it's a busy time of year. I would have posted this this morning, but I went to see Harry Potter instead. It was great! (Apart from the mistakes, the changes in plot, the irritating way that werewolf-Lupin looked like Gollum gone psycho).  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: definitely a cavern there. You had me worried for a sec. I kind of got the idea for the vents from the film of Dr. No. And to an extent the book of Live and Let Die. It was fun to write.  
  
Nemo Returning: you didn't like the cliffhanger? Oh dear. You're really going to kick me at the end of this one. (Have you seen Harry Potter yet? Not enough Snape! And Draco's turned into a whining wussy!)  
  
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Chapter 12. Black and White  
  
This was getting to be a habit. That was what clicked through Greenleaf's mind as he made the painful approach to consciousness. It was a clichéd thought, but he had woken up too many times recently with a sore head and an uneasy feeling that something was rather wrong. All he could see was blackness, and he realized eventually that it was because his eyes were closed. Not wanting to open them for a moment he remained still, deciding to take stock of his surroundings first.  
  
There was a faint breeze blowing across, though it was still rather hot; he must still be inside the volcano. Stone was hard against his back, and he was lying on a flat surface. He pulled at his arms gently in a move that should have been imperceptible to any observer, should there be any. He didn't want to look and see if there was anyone just yet. His arms wouldn't move, and Greenleaf could feel something against his wrists and also his ankles. It seemed that he was pinned down; not a particularly comforting idea.  
  
And there was also the other fact that he had deduced: that he was naked. It wasn't good, it made him vulnerable, spread out unable to fend for himself, at the mercy of whoever it was who had put him here –he had a pretty good idea who. It wasn't that he was shy about his body –indeed, he had no reason to be- but he wasn't prepared to show it off to everyone. There was a name for people like that. It was the sort of name that even now Greenleaf was silently directing at his captors. He kept his face impassive though, still feigning unconsciousness. It seemed to be the most sensible course of action for now, at least until he knew where he was and what was going on. Someone had wanted him to 'escape' from the cell and had sent him through a gauntlet of trials, all apparently designed to hurt or kill him. But, he realised with a smug feeling, they had obviously expected him to get through, and thus had left the welcome at the other end in the form of a knock on the head. And whoever had delivered that welcome was most likely still around. Greenleaf, even with his eyes closed, could feel the presence of someone else in the room with him and knew that someone, not a nice someone, was there. He didn't have to wait long to find out who it was.  
  
"I know you're awake, little Elf," a voice hissed. It was a horrible voice, causing a shudder to wriggle down Greenleaf's spine. He couldn't prevent it; the voice would have made a Balrog look over its shoulder uneasily. Every syllable recalled dark days of an age before, and it was confident of its power. There was an unpleasant, mocking laugh, and Greenleaf knew that his bluff had been called. He opened his eyes, already guessing who would be there.  
  
He had seen pictures of Sauron, of course, but not even the most skilful of artists could capture the sheer presence of the Dark Lord. Ink lines on paper could never convey the sickening feeling that anyone meeting Sauron would experience. Faced with that gaze, Greenleaf got the definite impression that he was no better than something an orc had discarded. The Dark Lord was tall, far taller than any Man or Elf, though Greenleaf had a few sceptical thoughts on the effect his current, horizontal position had on this. Sauron seemed to be dressed entirely in black armour, with nothing else visible. He defied description beyond that. It was paralysing, the evil that Greenleaf could feel from the Dark Lord. He had never met anyone or anything that was so much part of the darkness. Maybe that was one of the reasons that G hadn't wanted to send him, he realised, and an awkward feeling began growing inside him. He had never faced anyone this powerful, and his present position was hardly the best for the job. He didn't know what he could do.  
  
Not that he had much choice as to what to do at that particular moment. He lay on what seemed to be a cut stone slab, arms pulled above his head and secured –he couldn't see how- and his feet held down similarly at the other end. It was undignified, Greenleaf decided, and the nudity was unnecessary in his opinion. Just some whim of Sauron's, he supposed, some entertainment for him. Not that there was anything to laugh at, obviously. But there probably was a deeper, crueller meaning to it; a fundamental example of who was in charge in this situation. Greenleaf knew quite well, without that little reminder, exactly who was superior at that point, and he sincerely wished that it were otherwise. Sauron was watching him silently and intently, drinking in and enjoying the fear that the Elf refused to show.  
  
"So, little Elf," the Dark Lord said eventually, and Greenleaf was hard put not to jump like a startled rabbit. "Why exactly has the Lady of the Golden Wood sent you here?"  
  
Greenleaf said nothing. He would die before he spoke and anyway, he wasn't quite sure what Sauron meant. Surely he knew why he was there?  
  
As if realising this, Sauron continued. "Not your reason for being here: my defeat and ultimate destruction and all that. I know that. I want to know why she sent you, rather than anyone else. You're not exactly the obvious choice, are you? The young Prince of Mirkwood. You're hardly striking fear into my 'black' heart."  
  
He rested a gauntleted hand on Greenleaf's stomach, and the Elf flinched. The Dark Lord's speech was drawing on all the doubts festering in Greenleaf's mind. Why had he insisted that he be sent? He had thought too much of himself, that much was obvious, and he was paying for it now. If he got out –no, damn it, make that when, or he might just as well give up now- when he got out, he would probably be so full of himself that being humble would be the furthest thing from his mind. Which would be a pity, humbleness was good on occasions. But that sort of thought was distracting from the situation, which demanded all of his attention. Sauron was leaning over the Elf, the torchlight throwing odd shadows over his helmet.  
  
"Unless you are a decoy, of course," he continued, "an unknowing, sacrificial lamb thrown down to throw me off the scent. Is that it, little Elf?"  
  
Greenleaf still didn't speak, but he was unnerved by the Dark Lord's suggestions. Supposing G had sent him for that very reason? But no, she would never do that. She wouldn't, not ever. Greenleaf suppressed that fear, but couldn't stop the others. Sauron's eyes, though not visible, bored into his, as if he was reading every one of the Elf's thoughts. The hand on his stomach seemed to burn against his flesh, though it was probably that his acuity was heightened by dry-mouthed fear.  
  
"No," Sauron said, seeming to be pulling the answer straight from Greenleaf's head, "she wouldn't do that. She's too honourable." He spat the word out. "So you're the wonderful agent she has sent to get me, along with that stunted hairy creature you've dragged here with you. Well, I'm not very impressed." His hand twitched on Greenleaf's stomach, and the Elf tensed.  
  
"Don't worry, we'll get hold of him soon. Though I must say it is rather odd, an Elf and a Dwarf working together." The Dark Lord gave another of his harsh laughs. "I suppose I should be honoured. You're that determined to get rid of me. It's such a pity it's all been in vain."  
  
Greenleaf's eyes narrowed. "You might kill us," he said, as quietly and calmly as he could, "but that won't stop what's going to happen to you. You won't win. You'll be brought down, just wait and see."  
  
Sauron chuckled, a spine-contracting sound. "Not "might" kill you: definitely will kill you. But that's just by the by, nothing important. Your precious Service won't stop me, not at all. And I want you to realise that before you die. I want you to know that everything you've done has been completely in vain. You haven't achieved anything, little Elf, anything at all."  
  
"On the contrary," Greenleaf countered, angered, "no matter what you do now, it won't make any difference, except maybe make it worse fro you."  
  
Without warning, Sauron's fist lifted and slammed down on Greenleaf's unprotected stomach. The Elf tried to double over in reflex, but the restraints held him and he just had to lie there gasping.  
  
"Now I'd love to stay and talk," Sauron said, standing hugely tall over his captive, "but I have death and destruction to deal out. The usual sort of stuff, you understand? It's been amusing talking to you, and I just wanted to say one more thing." His finger drew a line up Greenleaf's chest and stopped at the Elf's chin, pushing his head back.  
  
"You only live forever, little Elf, and forever is coming to an end."  
  
He laughed raucously; a grating, cawing noise. "We won't see each other again, of course," he continued, "not alive, at any rate. But never fear, I leave you in trusted hands. I'll send him along shortly. I know you'll get on famously, he's an old friend of yours."  
  
Greenleaf looked at him. "How far are you planning to go?" he asked suddenly. "You'll never be content with just killing everyone, will you?"  
  
"Middle Earth is not enough." Sauron strode across the chamber and paused in the doorway. "Goodbye, little Elf. It's been such a pleasure." And with that he was gone.  
  
Greenleaf was left alone with his thoughts, none of which were particularly pleasant. It looked depressingly like being the end of the road for him. Sauron seemed, for the moment, to have won. Greenleaf could do nothing from where he was, and no matter how hard he pulled he could not break the restraints. He slumped against them. He was helpless, and despite his endurance he was tired. There was no denying it. All that he had been through already had wearied him near to the point of exhaustion. Bruises, burns and cuts all pained him, and even with the volcano's heat his still damp body was chilled. He could feel himself trembling slightly. His head ached from the two times he'd been knocked unconscious. He closed his eyes momentarily, feeling the ache spread through his limbs. It was quiet in the chamber, away from the noise of the orcs. The thick stone all around insulated it as well. Thick, heavy stone. Greenleaf sighed wearily. It was always caves on this mission, wasn't it? Great deep caves far underground, just the way he hated them. He'd almost rather be in Isengard. At least that place had windows.  
  
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Gimli's first impression of the cavern was its huge size, the way its roof simply curved upwards and vanished into shadow. But while this was all very well and impressive, the Dwarf's attention was drawn to something else. Some things, to be precise. Huge black shapes stood on the cavern floor, and Gimli recognised them immediately.  
  
They were Sauron's war machines; great monsters of iron sitting in silent menace. It was eerie how quiet it was, compared to the earlier noise-filled caves. Gimli was reminded horribly of a graveyard, though these machines had never been alive and hopefully never would be. They looked so much worse in physical reality than they ever could in the plans. Looking directly at them it was all too easy to see how brave warriors could be rolled over into insignificance under the huge wheels. Swords, axes or arrows; none would be any use against such a weapon. The hugest army could not withstand attack from these, not even on horseback. They were the ultimate weapon.  
  
Gimli walked slowly out among the mute monstrosities, examining them with heightening anger. Such weapons should have no place in warfare, he thought, fists clenching vehemently. I would name this one Widow-maker, and this Son-killer; here is Orphaner and his twin Bereaver! They would change the face of war for good, if they were allowed to be used. No one could defeat them unless they built their own and used the same tactics, and that was something that Gimli couldn't see the Elves doing willingly. Despite his long-held opinions of them, he now knew enough to know their respect for life. Not willing would they be to use such weapons; these machines that had one purpose. There was only one thing they could do: kill. Wars fought between armies of these monsters could never have a victor. No one could win once they'd had so many warriors killed.  
  
The metal hulks rose high above the Dwarf as he went along. To all intents and purposes they were identical, all constructed of the same pieces put together in the same manner. The entrance was at the back of each, up a ramp that obviously pulled up to shut and make the machine impregnable. The ramps were down so Gimli, after a quick check round, crept up one to have a look. The interior was fairly simple. Slits in the sides allowed for archers to shoot out, while flaps could be lifted to fight anyone outside, though Gimli decided that there would not be much call to use them. The machines' main use would most likely be to roll forward and literally flatten the enemy. However, there did seem to be a few areas that could cause problems. The vehicles could only travel in straight lines, with no apparent method for steering it in other directions. But for now they would not need to; the very sight of them approaching would terrify any army.  
  
A sudden noise caught Gimli by surprise, and he shrank into the shadows. A pair of orcs had entered cavern, talking to each other.  
  
"Can't make his bleedin' mind up, can he?" one was saying. "First he has them open for 'inspection', now he wants them shut. And who's got to do the donkeywork? Us, of course."  
  
"We've got intruders, haven't we?" The second orc sniffed. "I'd call him a miserable bastard at this point, but he was looking rather pleased, rather than miserable, when he gave the order. As much as anyone can tell."  
  
"Don't see why we couldn't get to play with the Elf though," the first one said petulantly, "blatant favouritism if you ask me."  
  
"I didn't ask you," the second said. "Get on the other side, will you? Ready? Right –hup!" There was a loud clang, and Gimli realised with a shock that they were closing the ramps.  
  
"Funny though," the orc continued, "you wouldn't have expected that he'd be in the Dark Lord's good books, would you? After that shambles..."  
  
"Ours not to question him," his companion said, "come on, let's get this done so we can get a bite to eat."  
  
They appeared in the entrance of the machine that Gimli was in, but luckily didn't even glance inside. They heaved the heavy metal ramp up, cursing occasionally, until it clicked into place. Gimli had no chance to escape, and was now trapped inside the metal machine. Another echoing slam signalled the closing of another ramp. Gimli took a step towards one of the slits to watch for when the orcs left, but stopped abruptly when his heavy boot clanked on the floor. He held himself perfectly still and waited.  
  
"What was that?" the first orc asked.  
  
"Probably just the metal settling or something technical like that," the second answered irritably, "don't be so jumpy, will you?"  
  
"All right, all right."  
  
The orcs carried on with their task. Gimli let out the breath he had been holding and walked much more carefully across the metal floor, lifting his feet and placing them down again with much more caution. He reached one of the long slits and peered through it. More slams rang out as the two orcs completed their job.  
  
"Is that all of them?" one of them asked. On receiving confirmation, he continued. "Come on then. These things give me the creeps, I can tell you."  
  
They left the cavern. Gimli waited for a couple of minutes before giving the raised ramp and experimental push. It didn't move. He pushed harder, but it still wouldn't give. Must be some form of locking mechanism, he deduced, or more likely some form of catch, judging by the way the ramp had clicked shut when pushed together with the side of the machine. If there was one thing that Gimli knew as well as caves then it was locks. He squinted upwards. There was hardly any light –only a little peeked through the slits in the side- but it was just enough and fell in the right place for him to see what he needed to. It was a simple catch, one that could be opened easily with a push. And therein lay the problem fro the Dwarf. He was too short to reach.  
  
It didn't take him long to work out a solution. Holding his axe by the end of the shaft, he held it up, reaching towards the catch. It was quite high, and his arm wobbled as he strained upwards. He had to go onto his toes but he finally touched the catch with the tip of his axe. With a last effort he knocked the catch open and the effect was instantaneous. The ramp fell back, slowly at first but then faster until it crashed onto the floor with a huge clang. The echoes reverberated round for quite some time, but Gimli didn't stay to listen.  
  
He ran out of the war machine before the ramp even stopped shuddering, sprinting away from it as fast as he could. The noise would undoubtedly bring orcs to investigate and he didn't plan on meeting them. He took one of the corridors ob the opposite to where he had come in. It was just beside a long pool of magma –the hot, melted rock that was always, unsurprisingly, turning up in the caves. Gimli heard orcs entering the cavern behind him as he concealed himself in the shadow. He looked back briefly. It was, as far as he could tell, the same two as earlier.  
  
"Look at that," one of them said, "you obviously didn't push it up far enough!"  
  
"You mean you didn't," the other argued, "don't try and blame me, you big lump!"  
  
"Don't you call me a big lump," the first replied, "at least I haven't got turds for brains."  
  
"I'll call you what I want," the second shot back, "dung breath."  
  
Not particularly interested in their bickering, Gimli moved on. He fixed the location of the cavern in his mind, and took care to remember exactly the route he was taking from it. Those machines would be of paramount importance to be destroyed. Nothing like them should be allowed to exist. He would have to go back there later to destroy them, but for now he had another task to do. He had to find that Elf. It would probably be rather difficult, being as he didn't know where he was, but he would find him.  
  
"Damn you, Elf," he muttered, "why'd you have to get yourself captured?" He marched on down the corridor, axe in hand.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Greenleaf pulled half-heartedly at his restraints. It didn't help, only made little lights flash in the corners of his eyes, which were still shut. The only thing he could do now was wait until whoever it was turned up. His stomach ached from where Sauron had punched him, not to mention his other injuries. The pain was threatening to distract him from his situation, and he opened his eyes. All he had to look at was the cave roof, which wasn't particularly enthralling. Greenleaf soon got tired of counting stalactites.  
  
His eyes began to drift closed again. He was very tired. He allowed his breathing to slow a little, but didn't go to sleep. He couldn't let himself do that, but the rest was welcome. He would need all his strength for whatever was going to happen. The sound of steps entering the cave caused him to stiffen slightly. The person Sauron had promised had arrived. Greenleaf raised his head a little, opening his eyes. They widened in surprise as he saw the other person.  
  
By the Valar, he thought, I was sure that...  
  
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A/n: [rubs hands together evilly] Well, wouldn't you like to know who that is? Or have you guessed already? There's been enough hints. 


	13. “Say Goodbye to it, Prince Greenleaf”

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Horribly clichéd dialogue warning! I just couldn't help it. And yes, I owe much to 'Casino Royale' near the end of this chapter, as indicated by the chapter title. Oh, it's mean to the poor Elf. Heh heh heh.  
  
Review replies: Idlewild: so, did you get it right? I expect you did. I almost didn't get that 'Middle-earth is not enough' line in actually. Almost forgot it (shame on me). I'm glad I have a precedent for Greenleaf running around (or lying there anyway) starkers; it's not just me being pervy.  
  
theinklesspen: orcs are such fun to write.  
  
Nemo Returning: is that your guess? Well, let's see if you're right. And I protest; cliffhangers are good clean fun. Tanks aren't so old-fashioned in Middle-earth, you know. It's the whole mechanisation-is-evil thing.  
  
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Chapter 13. "Say Goodbye to it, Prince Greenleaf."  
  
I was sure that he was dead, Greenleaf thought. He stared at the other person in the room, almost not believing what he saw. The person smiled. At least, he showed his teeth.  
  
"Such a pleasure, Prince Greenleaf. I knew we'd meet again, dear Elf, sooner or later."  
  
Saruman walked across the cave to stand beside the captive Elf. He looked down at him, obviously enjoying himself. "Why so quiet? You usually have something to say." He chuckled. "Or maybe you think you've seen a ghost?"  
  
Greenleaf looked back coolly. "I just didn't think you were worth the words," he retorted. Outwardly, he gave no other reaction, but inwardly he was seething. Confusion reared its head, and Greenleaf's thoughts were whirling. How had Saruman survived? He had slit his throat and left him in the rising waters in Isengard. He was sure that the wizard was dead. So how come Saruman was standing before him now with a smug grin? What in the name of the Valar was going on?  
  
"You're always so charming," the wizard said, "I was so pleased to have the opportunity to meet you again. I felt that we had such an interesting conversation last time." He touched the Elf's face with cold fingers. "But I expect you're rather surprised to see me, aren't you? After you did your best to kill me –which, incidentally, makes you one of my least gracious guests." Saruman's face was in an almost comical scolding expression. "And yes, it did hurt, thank you so very much, but you were rather running out of breath by then and shot off without so much as a goodbye. Unluckily for you though it takes a bit more than that to get rid of me." He grinned and pushed his beard to one side. There was a long pink scar across his neck. "But you left your mark, didn't you?" His tone became hard and angry. "That's the closest anyone's come to getting me in a long time. Proud of that?"  
  
"No," Greenleaf said simply, "but only because I didn't finish the job." He jerked as Saruman slapped him across the face, nails leaving lines across his cheek.  
  
"Always being the funny one," the wizard said, "but never getting the laughs. Never mind; to use a cliché, who's got the last laugh now? It's not you for certain. You're the one stretched out and helpless while I'm the one with all the aces. Does that annoy you more than a little? It should do."  
  
"Your luck will turn someday," Greenleaf stated calmly, "quite soon I expect."  
  
That earned him another slap, but irritatingly the wizard seemed to stay quite calm. Greenleaf was trying to make him angry, as in anger mistakes are often made. It was an old tactic but a favoured one. Unfortunately, it wasn't working yet.  
  
"You must indeed possess the gift of foresight to tell me this," Saruman said with heavy sarcasm, "I'm all a-quiver, I can tell you. Apologies if my cheerful outward appearance doesn't quite match my inner terror." He favoured the Elf with a scathing look. "Prince Greenleaf, why should I be afraid of what you say when I work with the greatest crime lord of Middle- earth?"  
  
Greenleaf stared straight back at him. "Does he know you work 'with' him?" he asked. "You've always seemed to me to be one of the dogs that follow at his heels."  
  
"Silence!" the wizard roared.  
  
Oh, there was definitely a spark of anger there. All that was needed was to fan the flames, and Greenleaf knew just how to do it.  
  
"It's a bit like the way you employed that little worm, Gríma, isn't it?" he said airily. "He thought that you and he worked together as equals. What sad delusions. Just like yours."  
  
Saruman said nothing for a long while, but his eyes seemed to blaze with fury. Finally, in carefully moderated tones, he spoke.  
  
"Foolish talk from one who is completely at my mercy." He forced a smile. "My only problem now is, well, what shall I do with you? So many ideas and so much time to employ them. There's too much choice, I fear."  
  
Greenleaf raised a single mocking eyebrow. "Your talking is bad enough," he remarked, "all on the one topic. Me, me, me; that's all you bang on about. Torture enough, I'd say."  
  
"Is that so, my dear Prince?" Saruman asked, with a hint of gritted teeth. "Then let's talk about your future, or lack of it. Sauron wants rid of you –no surprise there, I must say- and he doesn't care how it's done. Painful is the name of the game though, as I'm sure you can predict. And luckily for you, pain is one of my favourite subjects. I've studied it for rather a long time, you'll be pleased to know, and you're about to get the benefit of that experience." He smiled cruelly. "But oh, how to start?  
  
"There's always burning, I suppose. That's quite a favourite tactic. I do so love the way skin blisters before it goes black. And I bet you'd love to smell your own flesh burning, wouldn't you? Hmm." He stroked his beard. "Or there's chopping little bits off and making you eat them. The look on people's faces at that point is sublime. Maybe I could combine the two; cook you then make you eat yourself." He chuckled. "Poison is always rather popular, but you have to get it just right or they die on you too soon. Decisions, decisions. I've spent so long thinking about it, you see."  
  
"Nice to know I mean that much to you," Greenleaf commented. It was a blasé comment, aimed at hiding his growing feelings of worry, dread and even fear.  
  
Saruman made no reply, but instead walked across the cave where Greenleaf couldn't see him. The Elf strained his ears but had no idea of what Saruman was doing. He found out though when the wizard returned to his side.  
  
"This looks sharp enough to begin with," Saruman said, holding up a knife.  
  
It was Greenleaf's knife, his Elven knife with its white handle. A few black spots of orc-blood clung to it. Greenleaf eyed it with mixed attitudes. Firstly anger that Saruman would dare to use his knife for such a purpose. But secondly hope; if his knife was here then the rest of his weapons probably were too. Not that he could get at them at the present, but it was useful to know. U would probably do something very nasty to him if he lost his bow. Probably not as far as killing him, more likely turning him into a frog, or maybe just making him believe he was one. That would be just like U, Greenleaf though wryly, something clever and psychologically disturbing. Unlike a certain other wizard he could name who preferred brute force and pain.  
  
"Are you listening to me?" Saruman snapped, fiddling with the knife in his hands.  
  
"Sorry, must have drifted off for a moment there." Greenleaf gave him a bright smile. "Today's been a bit of a fag, to be honest. I've met some frightfully tiresome people. You were saying?"  
  
"Obviously nothing of importance," Saruman said with biting sarcasm. "Since it seems pointless to continue discussing this, I think we shall move on to the practical demonstration."  
  
With one quick movement he opened a cut along Greenleaf's chest. The Elf didn't even flinch. He could feel the blood gathering in the wound and beginning to drip down his skin, noticing it in a rather detached manner that surprised even him. The second cut, parallel to the first and an inch further over, he treated similarly. It was probably the exhaustion, he supposed; he just couldn't be bothered to feel the pain at that point, though he would soon. Saruman continued across Greenleaf's chest, looking rather pleased with himself as he did. Another flick of the knife, another slice, and another red line blooming across the Elf's skin. It was only a little pain each time, but little pains add together in perfect multiples, growing in their undeniable way.  
  
Soon the entire front of his chest was stinging fiercely and Greenleaf was finding it increasingly hard to keep up a calm face. Saruman was clearly enjoying it far too much. He chuckled a little every time he added a fresh cut.  
  
"Well, Prince Greenleaf," he said after a little while, "are you enjoying yourself?"  
  
Greenleaf forced himself to smile sweetly. "The accommodation is the best that can be desired given the location, "he said, "though the hospitality is somewhat lacking, I am sorry to say."  
  
"I'm all cracked up with laughter," Saruman remarked coldly. He moved to hold the knife by Greenleaf's face. "How would you like me to improve that lovely face of yours?"  
  
"I've always been rather happy with it, to be honest," Greenleaf responded. There was blood dripping from the blade onto his cheek, his blood.  
  
"I think it's time for a change," Saruman said. He drew a line along the Elf's cheekbone slowly, and then slashed fast down the flesh of his cheek. Greenleaf couldn't but cry out a little. Saruman laughed.  
  
Greenleaf mentally scolded himself. "It must be a great achievement for you," he said out loud," he said out loud, though his tone was more strained, "to be able to hurt someone who can't fight back."  
  
"I wouldn't call it achievement," Saruman answered, smiling, "just pleasure, really. I have other things to be proud of. This is just fun. And, of course, art."  
  
He grabbed Greenleaf's side and pulled him over onto his front as much as possible. The Elf's arms were twisted uncomfortably, straining against their sockets. He was lying half on his stomach, half on his side, legs twisted also. The change in position meant that his body was pulled tighter against the bonds. Saruman stood behind him, surveying the cuts, bruises and burns across Greenleaf's back. Finally, he picked his spot and laid his hand against it. Greenleaf tensed as the cold hand pressed against his left shoulder blade. Then he gasped as the knife dug into his back beside the hand and dragged its way across his skin. It traced a pattern, and he realised that it was cutting the outline of the hand onto his back.  
  
He arched his head back, trying to ignore the pain. Saruman seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time. Greenleaf's eyes fell on his wrists and the hard leather straps that held them tightly. Face hidden from the wizard's view, he smiled. He could get out of them. Pulling up as much as he could without Saruman noticing, he tried to get as much movement in his hands as possible, but there was little slack and no room for manoeuvre. Bending his fingers as far as they would go, he set to work on the buckle, trying not to give into tugging frantically at it.  
  
"Perfect," Saruman said suddenly, catching Greenleaf by surprise. He stopped fumbling at the straps for a moment. The hand left his back and pressed the edge of the wound. He gasped.  
  
"Exquisite, even," Saruman continued, staring at the bleeding hand drawn on the Elf's back, "you're marked now with my sign. Does that annoy you?"  
  
He didn't wait for an answer but instead pulled Greenleaf onto his back again, landing him heavily against the stone. Greenleaf screwed up his face as his various wounds made themselves known vociferously. He opened his eyes again to see Saruman leering over him. He pulled a face back, revelling in the opportunity to be just a little childish. Saruman wasn't particularly amused by that, and he sneered before walking away a little. Greenleaf began to work on his straps again. He was panting with the effort of keeping the pain at bay.  
  
"You didn't answer my question," Saruman said. "Doesn't it annoy you at all?"  
  
"Oh no," Greenleaf replied as cheerfully as he could manage, "it'll heal after all."  
  
"Fool of an Elf!" Saruman snapped, backhanding Greenleaf across the face. "You are not going to be surviving long enough for that to heal. Yes, you will take a long time to die, but not that long. And there will be less of you by then."  
  
Greenleaf's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked slowly.  
  
Saruman smirked. "Oh, you'll see." He ran the flat of the Elven blade down Greenleaf's leg and back again, watching the slight tremble in the long tense limbs. It was only a light touch of the metal, leaving a trail of blood from the wounds inflicted earlier by it. It stopped at the juncture between his legs, almost caressing the body part there.  
  
"Ever wondered what it would be like to be emasculated?" Saruman asked. "Prepare to be a eunuch.  
  
"Say good bye to it, Prince Greenleaf."  
  
It was, fortunately, at that moment that Greenleaf freed his hands from their restraints. He sat straight up immediately, knocking the knife away and punching Saruman in the face. He began to undo the straps from his ankles, ignoring the agony that accompanied his sudden movements. Light was filling his vision, almost causing him to miss Saruman coming at him again, knife in hand. Greenleaf threw his arm up in defence, pushing Saruman's knife hand away. They wrestled for a moment until Greenleaf gained his knife and thrust it at Saruman, wounding him in the shoulder. The wizard fell back and Greenleaf sliced the straps around his own ankles, finally freeing himself completely. Saruman attacked again, and again Greenleaf fended him off. This time the wizard stayed on his feet but also turned and hurried across the chamber. He grabbed his staff from where it leant against the wall and pointed it directly at the Elf.  
  
"It would be unwise to try any foolish moves," Saruman said, panting heavily, "I would hate to kill you so soon but if I have to then I will."  
  
"Foolish moves?" Greenleaf asked with a humourless laugh. "I regret to say that I have never learned to juggle. Though I'm sure I could think of a joke to tell you."  
  
"Do not toy with me, prince!" Saruman snapped. "Do you not find your imminent death a matter for seriousness?"  
  
"I recall you threatening me with much the same before," Greenleaf answered, "and I didn't believe you then either."  
  
Saruman snarled and ran at the Elf, swinging the staff at him. Greenleaf caught it mid-swing, wincing as he did but holding firm. There was a silent standoff, both straining to control the staff.  
  
"I thought so," Greenleaf muttered, staring the wizard in the eyes, "it's not your real staff, is it? It's a fake. You can't use it for magic, can you? What happened, did you lose it somewhere?"  
  
"It is in Isengard," Saruman hissed in reply, "but I can still hurt you with this one."  
  
He released his end of the staff for a split second and pushed it to the side. Greenleaf, not expecting such a move, was still pulling on it, and the staff connected abruptly with his side. Despite his surprise and pain, he used the opportunity to yank the staff away while Saruman wasn't holding it. He swung it round and knocked the wizard back.  
  
"Can you?" Greenleaf asked, challenge shining in his eyes. He looked murderous.  
  
Saruman got up and fled. Greenleaf cursed and leapt from the stone slab, meaning to pursue the wizard. Instead, he fell flat on his face, his body protesting at the strain it had been under. Swearing even more, Greenleaf watched the wizard vanish around the corner. He rested his forehead on the cold stone floor for a moment, trying to persuade his limbs to move with at least some co-ordination. I'll make you a deal, he told his body, you help me out of here and then I'll let you have a rest, all right?  
  
It seemed to work, though there were protests from the more injured areas of his body. He managed to stand and stay standing, which was enough to begin with. Clothes were the next thing. Going by the fact that Saruman had picked up his knife from the far corner, Greenleaf looked there. Sure enough, his leggings, boots, belt, arm braces, cloak, bow and quiver were there, along with the few remaining shreds of tunic. Greenleaf dressed quickly, wiping his knife clean with one of the scraps and sheathing it on his belt. He would have to go bare-chested of course, but thinking about his wounds he was glad that he wouldn't have fabric rubbing against them. He strapped his quiver on his back, hanging his bow from it. He held his cloak in his hand.  
  
Greenleaf staggered a little as he made his way out of the chamber. Unless Saruman had stopped not far away then he wouldn't catch him up. In the corridor he paused, looking first one way then the other. Eventually coming to a decision, he went left, limping slightly down the corridor. There was no one else around, which was just as well in his current state. It was completely dark. Greenleaf followed the way by running his hand along the wall, listening all the time. There was something horribly familiar about the whole scenario: he was lost and alone in a huge sprawling mess of dark caves. Not to mention the possibility of walking straight into some bloodthirsty bunch of orcs. Greenleaf shuddered a little at the thought.  
  
Eventually he reached a lit part of the caves, illuminated by torches. A few orcs were walking past. Greenleaf concealed himself in the shadows, crouching by the base of the wall and pulling his cloak over himself. After they had gone he stood again, wishing for a moment that he could just sit there for a while longer. He walked forward, but as he did so he realised that they had not all gone. A figure was just approaching up one of the corridors. There was no chance that he hadn't been seen. Greenleaf drew his knife as the other drew his own weapon.  
  
The two opponents headed for each other. In covering the distance between, Greenleaf noticed the height of his enemy and the nature of his weapon. He took a quick step to the side and grinned.  
  
"Aren't you a little short for an orc?" he asked, grinning as he grabbed the other's shoulder. The axe swung around, stopping just before the Elf's stomach.  
  
"What the-?" Gimli spluttered, staring up. He smiled suddenly. "Ah, I was just coming to find you." He looked Greenleaf up and down. "You look terrible."  
  
"Yes, well," Greenleaf said, grin leaving his face, "it turns out that Saruman isn't quite as dead as I thought. He's still alive and more than kicking, as I found out the hard way."  
  
"Saruman?" Gimli rested his axe on the ground and leant on it. "That's an unexpected piece of news, and an unwelcome one."  
  
"It is," Greenleaf agreed, "but we cannot dwell upon it. If we are to blast this place then we need to do it quickly. Every delay could prove fatal to our plan."  
  
"I think that I know where the stuff is to blow up the place," Gimli said, "it's about as far from the core of the volcano as it could be, and separated into smaller chambers, but it wouldn't take long to gather it all together. The entirety of it would be enough to set this place off. But in laying it out undetected..." He left the point unfinished.  
  
"You'll need some form of distraction," Greenleaf understood. He pushed his hair back where his braids had come undone. "That can be arranged quite easily."  
  
Gimli made a snorting noise. "In your state?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"I've been in worse," Greenleaf replied coolly.  
  
"Hmm. That's not the only thing though. I can leave trails to the powder, to give us time, but not long. To leave too long a trail would be open to, well, sabotage."  
  
"Leave several trails," Greenleaf suggested, "and try to make some of them hidden. Plan out your escape route beforehand. Try to get it to go past wherever I'll be." He leant against the wall. He was tired, that couldn't be denied, but he would do whatever he had to, to get the mission finished. He looked up to see Gimli staring at him.  
  
"And where are you going to be?" the Dwarf asked.  
  
"Creating a distraction, of course," Greenleaf answered. "Who else is going to do it?"  
  
"How are you going to do that?"  
  
"Cause a disruption elsewhere," Greenleaf said evasively. He didn't want to divulge the exact details; he could already imagine the Dwarf's reaction.  
  
"How?" Gimli pressed. When Greenleaf gave no reply, he continued. "If I'm to grab you on the way out, I need to know where you'll be."  
  
"Well, that depends really," Greenleaf said.  
  
"On what?" Gimli asked impatiently.  
  
Greenleaf sighed. "On where Sauron is."  
  
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A/n: on "Say goodbye to it, Prince Greenleaf". I've wanted to use it since I read the end of 'Casino Royale'. If you haven't read it, it's one of the best torture scenes I've ever read (involving a carpet beater and Bond's rather tender under parts). Talk about hitting a man where it hurts. And I just had to slip the word "eunuch" in, of course.


	14. Battle Royale

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: So, chapter the fourteenth, in which there is much arse kicking. Nearly there now, chaps. A little more to go then it'll be the end of this fic (sob). But never fear, the sequel (yes, another one!) is well on the way.  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: what makes you think Sauron's going to have time to deal with Saruman? Hmm, and if Saruman's quite sick, does that mean I'm sick for writing him like that? Oh dear. It's all Ian Fleming's fault.  
  
Nemo Returning: what was a short cut? Gimli turning up like that? Hey, why waste time on waiting for him?  
  
Idlewild: aha, the scar on Bond's hand was covered up by plastic surgery. It's discussed at the beginning of Live and Let Die, where it's mentioned that they got the skin from his forearm, which mean that the hairs will grow thicker, and crooked. I'm quite sad for remembering that so well. But I don't think they have plastic surgery in Middle-earth. I've been hunting for the book you suggested. Meh, the libraries round here have no taste. I'll have to dig it out when I go into town later this week. And yes, that was Greenleaf with his best Princess Leia impression. I'm very proud of that, though disappointed I couldn't get any Count Dooku lines in for Saruman.  
  
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Chapter 14. Battle Royale  
  
"You're not going after Sauron!"  
  
Gimli's exclamation rang out in the narrow corridor. Luckily there was no one else around to hear.  
  
"It's what I'm here for," said Greenleaf calmly, "plus, it'll mean that there won't be any surveillance looking for you." He folded his arms; as far as he was concerned the matter was closed.  
  
"He'll kill you," Gimli said.  
  
"I'm touched by your concern."  
  
There was a long silence, finished only when Gimli sighed heavily, a frown on his face.  
  
"I can't change your mind, can I?" he asked. Greenleaf shook his head. There was another pause, in which Gimli shuffled his feet and looked at the floor uncomfortably.  
  
"Well," he said eventually, "I...I'm glad to have worked with you, Legolas." He coughed nervously. "I just wanted to say that."  
  
Greenleaf said nothing for a moment, and then smiled wryly. "It's been a pleasure to work with you also, Gimli," he said, and was surprised to find how sincerely he meant it. He had found that he was thinking of Gimli less as a Dwarf and more as a colleague, or even a friend. "We need to get moving," he went on. "Where would you expect Sauron to be?"  
  
Gimli stroked his beard. "On my way up here I heard some orcs saying that 'the boss' would be inspecting the machines soon," he said, "I'll take you there."  
  
"You found Sauron's war machines?" asked Greenleaf.  
  
"Yes," said Gimli, "and they're pretty horrible. They're down this way."  
  
"Then let's go," said Greenleaf.  
  
They hurried down the corridor; Gimli ahead and Greenleaf following behind. The Elf was involved in tying his cloak to his quiver, partly in an effort to prevent the leather from rubbing against his wounded back. The cloak itself would get in the way in a fight, and Greenleaf wanted no distractions. This tussle with Sauron would be hard enough as it was. He knew that it was probably a hugely foolish move to take on the Dark Lord head on, but he had to, he really did. This could be the one time that he didn't come out alive, but it had to be worth it. It was an utter cliché, but his life was unimportant compared with all the people Sauron would kill. He finished tying the cloak and rehung his quiver on his back.  
  
"In here," whispered Gimli, stopping by an entranceway, "and he's in there all right."  
  
Greenleaf peered into the cavern, noting the squatting shapes of the war machines and the few orcs gathered around. Sauron was examining one of the metal hulks some way from where the Elf and the Dwarf were. Greenleaf turned to Gimli, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Then here's where we part," he said. "Go and get it done. Blow this place sky high, my friend." He smiled.  
  
"So this'll be goodbye," said Gimli gruffly, "if we never meet again, that is."  
  
"Never say never again," Greenleaf told him, shoving him off, "now go on, get on with it. I've got a Dark Lord's arse to kick."  
  
Gimli said nothing more, but went, soon lost to his companion's sight in the darkness. Greenleaf turned again to the cavern, taking careful stock of the situation before him. There were, as far as he could see, only seven orcs, but there could be more away down any of the tunnels in the sides. There were at least five exit or entry points into the cavern. Magma bubbled and glowed in one corner and most of the cavern was lit by torches, though where Greenleaf stood was mainly dark and in shadow. He crept along by the wall until he was behind one of the orcs. After first checking that none of the others were looking his way, he pulled the orc backwards into the shadow. He slit its throat quickly, not allowing a sound to escape it, and dragged the body as quietly as he could into the corner. He dumped it there, out of sight. That was one less orc to worry about at least. But he would have to be a lot more obvious to create a distraction.  
  
He unslung his bow from his back and laid an arrow on it. Here goes, he thought. He loosed the arrow, sending it flying across the cavern. It hit one of the orcs on the other side, dropping it where it stood. No sooner had the one next to it looked around in surprise than it too fell, an arrow in its face. Greenleaf had killed three more before the remaining two raised the alarm. Sauron, who had been inside one of the war machines, came out and stared straight at Greenleaf. The Elf loosed an arrow at him, but it shattered against his armour. They faced each other for a moment at distance, and then Sauron came striding across the cavern. Greenleaf fired another arrow, but again had no effect.  
  
"Foolish little Elf!" bellowed Sauron. He swept his arm around, throwing Greenleaf back and knocking the bow from his hands. The Elf impacted against the wall and almost passed out with the pain. Sauron gripped his arm, pulling him up off the ground, dangling him like a doll. He shook him roughly.  
  
"What are you trying to achieve, little Elf?" Sauron asked. "Surely you've realised that you can't win."  
  
"I'm not one to give up," said Greenleaf, wishing that his arm wasn't held so tightly.  
  
"Hah! All you've managed to do here is kill a few orcs, and I've plenty of those." He threw the Elf to the floor. "Maybe I should just give you to them. What do you say to that?"  
  
Greenleaf propped himself up slowly on his elbows, smiling despite the trail of blood coming from his mouth. "I would say that you didn't have the guts to do it yourself," he said calmly.  
  
Sauron let out a sound a little like a growl. He unsheathed a long sword from his side and, holding it in both hands, brought it down on Greenleaf, or rather, where Greenleaf had been a moment previously. The Elf rolled to the side, pushing himself to his feet in the same move. He seized his knife, holding it in his right hand as he faced Sauron.  
  
Well, I got a rise out of him, he thought. That bit was easy enough.  
  
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That bit was easy enough, Gimli decided, no orcs anywhere.  
  
He had reached the main chamber where the powder was and now stood rubbing his hands together. The blasting powder was in kegs, stacked against the walls. The kegs themselves were piled on top of each other, in stacks of three or more. Gimli eyed them all with glee. This lot would definitely make a big bang. But would it be big enough?  
  
The best thing to do, he decided, would be to find the closest bit of magma. That would give the explosion its full effect; if he found some close enough. He wouldn't be able to carry all that powder any distance; he simply didn't have the time. He had left that crazy Elf to face Sauron on his own, and he would rather he still be alive to escape. Partly of course, because Gimli wouldn't ride that horse on his own. He would rather face Sauron's entire army before attempting that. He left the main chamber and stood just outside the doorway. The way to the left felt distinctly warmer, so he followed it.  
  
The very next cavern held what he was looking for. At the far end from the doorway glowed a pool of molten rock. With a few quick calculations Gimli worked out that the left side of this cavern must be directly against the right hand side, which was perfect for what he was planning. He entered the cavern and examined the wall, occasionally making little "hmm" and "hah!" noises. The wall between the caverns was actually quite thin, and in places there were small holes, through which could be seen the dim outlines of the kegs in the other chamber. Gimli smiled, knowing exactly what he would do.  
  
He went out into the corridor again, going past the main powder chamber and into a smaller chamber a little further on. This contained a smaller amount of blasting powder, all parcelled up into small bags. There was not as much as in the other chamber, but it was still a respectable pile. Gimli unfastened his cloak and set to work, filling the cloak with bags of powder then carrying them through to the cavern. The powder proved a heavy burden, but Gimli continued doggedly, moving it as fast as he could. Finally, he had a large heap of bags heaped up against the wall in the large cavern. He refastened his cloak, giving the heap a satisfied look before going back into the main powder chamber.  
  
There were already many kegs by the wall where he wanted them, but not enough. He began the arduous task of pushing the barrels across the chamber, scraping them across the floor. He pressed his back against each keg, heaving it along. It took him a while, but finally there was a fair- sized pile. He looked at it, relieved, and bent to lay the powder trails.  
  
He had almost done them all when he was bashed on the back of the head. Falling, he turned his head to see Saruman standing there, grinning. Oh bugger, he thought.  
  
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Oh bugger, thought Greenleaf, this one's not going to turn out too well. He looked up at the dark form of Sauron above him, wielding a huge sword. They eyed each other only for an instant longer before Sauron attacked again. His sword swung across, aiming for Greenleaf's midsection. The Elf ducked below it, allowing the blade to pass a few inches above his head. He leapt out of the way again as Sauron turned his sword back, slicing through the air. Greenleaf dodged back, keeping on his toes.  
  
"Getting slow?" he teased. An angry Dark Lord was potentially a Dark Lord who made mistakes, even though it was a dangerous tactic to employ.  
  
"Not a chance of it," growled Sauron, "you're weak and will fall long before I get slow." He brought his sword down towards Greenleaf's head.  
  
Greenleaf darted to the side a split second before the blade reached him, allowing it to bury into the floor. He jumped up, one foot on the sword hilt pushing him up. His knife cut a long slash across the front of Sauron's helmet, shearing off parts of it with a screech. Sauron roared, lifting his sword and heaving it out of the ground. Greenleaf flipped backwards, landing with a slight stagger beside one of the war machines. Sauron's sword clanged against the metal beside him and was raised again. It came down a second time, just missing Greenleaf's arm and actually piercing the metal hull. Greenleaf rushed forwards as Sauron pulled at the sword. He stabbed at Sauron's middle, feeling triumphant as he heard the Dark Lord voice his pain. Removing the knife from Sauron's flesh, he was gratified to see black blood on the blade.  
  
Sauron let go of his sword hilt, leaving the weapon stuck through the side of the machine. He thrashed out with his hand and caught Greenleaf across the chest viciously. The Elf was flung some way through the air before crashing to the floor with an impact that knocked the breath out of him. He was almost back on his feet when Sauron reached him. The Dark Lord kicked him back onto the floor, the knife falling from his hand and spinning away to the side where he couldn't reach it. Sauron advanced on him, pushing him back.  
  
With a sudden move, Greenleaf threw himself forward, bringing his feet up to hit Sauron's knees with all the force he could muster. Sauron staggered a little, and further attacks finally caused him to fall. Unfortunately, he fell on top of Greenleaf. The Elf skidded backwards, but didn't quite get out of Sauron's reach. The intense heat at his back stopped him before he plunged into the pool of lava behind him. He was trapped between liquid rock and an angry Dark Lord.  
  
He scowled. What was that damn Dwarf doing that was taking so long?  
  
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Gimli was reaching for his axe, intending to bury it in the wizard who was rapidly approaching. Saruman held a long black staff in his hands, with which he parried the Dwarf's axe swing. They pushed against each other for a moment before breaking apart and standing back again, circling. Gimli noticed fresh-looking bloodstains on the wizard's robe and realised where they were from with a sick, angry feeling.  
  
"The Elf may not have succeeded in killing you," he said, gripping his axe tighter, "but I certainly will. You can count on that, wizard."  
  
Saruman laughed. "What makes you think you'll be able to do it when he failed?" he asked. "You're just a Dwarf, after all."  
  
"Maybe you need some education in what Dwarves can do," Gimli said, and flicked his axe out. Saruman dodged, but the axe blade still sliced through his sleeve. He swung his staff at Gimli, who caught the blow on his axe. Locked together, they both contrived to overpower the other, though with little success. Gimli would push Saruman back a few steps, which the wizard would then regain and so on. This state of affairs continued until Gimli manoeuvred Saruman back into some of the barrels.  
  
With an impressive set of curses, the wizard stumbled into them. Their impasse was broken as he strove to remain on his feet. Gimli, capitalising on the opportunity, brought his axe down hard. It struck Saruman's staff, shattering it into tiny pieces. Saruman roared in anger, throwing himself at Gimli. The sharp nails of his right hand tore into Gimli's cheek, while his other hand pushed the axe away. They fell to the floor together, the fight suddenly becoming much more close quarter. Here, Saruman's long limbs became an advantage, enabling him to keep out of the range of Gimli's punches. He held the axe down to the side, keeping it against the floor despite the Dwarf trying to push it up. Saruman moved his right hand to grasp Gimli's neck, squeezing it tightly. Gimli fought against the hand at his throat but the wizard's grip was strong. He couldn't breathe, and he knew he would have to do something quickly.  
  
He heaved his legs upwards, bending at the waist. They were just long enough, causing his heavy boots to connect with Saruman's groin. The wizard's eyes bulged and his hold on Gimli's neck loosened. Gimli took the advantage and pulled his axe from Saruman's grip, hitting him on the head with the flat of the blade. He stood and swung his axe round again. Saruman pulled back just in time, and Gimli's axe only sliced across the front of his robe. Saruman then lunged forward, hands outstretched.  
  
He hadn't reckoned on Gimli's perseverance. The axe came round again, and chopped off Saruman's left hand. The wizard fell back, clutching the stump of his arm and screaming. He staggered backwards and tripped, cracking his head on one of the barrels. He slumped to the floor unconscious. Gimli raised his axe above the wizard, looking down at the helpless figure, intending to slaughter him where he lay. But he couldn't do it. He lowered his axe. To murder someone in cold blood just wasn't his style. He decided to leave him there among the blasting powder, to be blown to pieces when it exploded. It seemed less like murder somehow. Less up close and personal.  
  
Gimli finished laying his trails. He lit the ones in the larger cavern first, and then the ones in the main chamber. That done, he ran, wondering how the Elf was doing.  
  
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Greenleaf tried to dive for the side as Sauron went for him, but didn't move fast enough, exhaustion dragging at him. He ended up on his front with Sauron's knee on his back, pinning him down. The lava pit was directly below him, his body partway over the edge of the pit. Sauron's hand grabbed Greenleaf's hair, pushing his face towards the molten rock.  
  
"Not so confident now, are you?" gloated Sauron. "Not so cocky when you're about to have your pretty face burnt off."  
  
Greenleaf gave no answer, more concerned with the heat rising from just below his face. His hands were braced against the rocky floor, giving him only just enough leverage against the pressure on the back of his head. As Sauron pushed harder, Greenleaf's arms began to tremble, protesting their treatment. He knew they wouldn't hold up long. His face was getting ever closer to the burning lava, and sweat was beginning to drip down it. He blinked his eyelids, trying to clear his vision. It didn't work.  
  
With a sudden move he arched his back, catching Sauron by surprise. He kicked his left leg back, knocking the Dark Lord off balance. Greenleaf followed through with a fast shove and rolled out of the way, leaving Sauron to crash to the floor beside him. He scrambled to his feet, ending up in a crouch. His knife was a few lengths away, lying on the ground. He sprang for it, but fell short as Sauron grabbed his ankle. He kicked furiously, anger fuelling him despite his exhaustion. Sauron's grip loosened momentarily and Greenleaf wrenched his foot away. He rushed the remaining distance and seized his knife, spinning to face his opponent. Sauron was just getting to his feet, slightly clumsy in his heavy armour.  
  
Greenleaf rushed at him, knife held before him. He stabbed Sauron in the side, pressing him back as he did. Sauron shoved out with one hand, catching Greenleaf on the shoulder and throwing him back. Greenleaf fell to the floor, unable to stop a cry of pain as he did. But he was determined above all not to fail, and pushed himself to his feet again. Both he and Sauron stood at the edge of the lava pit, backlit by flame, facing each other. Only one would walk away from this.  
  
Sauron lunged, and Greenleaf dodged. He took a step backwards as Sauron pressed forward, forcing the Elf into defensive tactics. Greenleaf begrudged every backward step, but couldn't prevent any of them. Sauron had a huge advantage in his height and strength. Greenleaf took another step and felt a horrible sickening feeling as the edge under his foot crumbled. He tumbled backwards, only just stopping himself from tipping right off by twisting to the side. He landed on his back, looking up to see Sauron very close and ready to push Greenleaf all the way down. The Elf braced his arms against the ground and struck out with his legs. Sauron's legs buckled and he staggered. Greenleaf kicked out again, as hard as possible.  
  
Stumbling back, Sauron fell ever so slowly. Tipping over and towards the lava. His arms flailed but his balance was gone and there was no denying the inevitable pull of gravity. With a scream he hit the molten rock, sinking by slow degrees into it. He thrashed around frantically, spraying lava as he did, but all to no effect. Accompanied by a terrible smell of burning, he sank finally beneath the molten surface, his head the last thing to go. His gaze, as much as could be seen of it, never left Greenleaf's as he went.  
  
The Elf had pulled himself away from the edge and knelt, a foot or so away, watching the Dark Lord disappearing. This death would change a lot, that he knew. All the scams and operations Sauron had been running –big and small- would be finished. There was no one else who could take it on. The entire scheme would disintegrate, and rightly too. But while this was the death of a crime organisation, it was also the death of an individual, no matter how twisted and evil that individual was. It was due to his respect of this that Greenleaf remained where he was, observing Sauron's remains slowly burning up. This was how he was when Gimli came running into the cavern, sprinting across to the kneeling figure.  
  
"Legolas!" he yelled.  
  
Greenleaf turned his head to look at the Dwarf. He didn't smile. Gimli looked down at the lava, seeing the few bits of metal still floating on top.  
  
"Sauron?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," answered Greenleaf simply.  
  
"Well done," said Gimli. He was impressed, but then he suddenly remembered the urgency. "Come on! We've got to get out before it goes!"  
  
He grabbed Greenleaf's arm and pulled him up and towards the exit.  
  
"Just a moment," called Greenleaf, and he did a detour to collect his bow. "U would hate me to leave this behind."  
  
They ran out of the cavern, glad to be leaving the hideous war machines behind for destruction. There were few orcs about, and those that were either fell quickly to knife or axe or did not see the fleeing pair. There were not many of the latter category, and a trail of dead orcs followed Elf and Dwarf, not that any of the others were fast or competent enough to trace it.  
  
"That's ten, Gimli!" Greenleaf said, leaving another corpse in his wake. "What's your count?" He grinned, knowing that it was nowhere near his.  
  
"Four," the Dwarf grunted, "but you've got longer legs than me; you reach them faster!"  
  
"But I'm injured," protested Greenleaf with wide eyes. "Surely you...hang on." He darted into a small room, recognising it from earlier.  
  
"What now?" Gimli asked. He huffed impatiently, and then swung his axe hurriedly to kill an orc that had been headed his way. "Hah! Five now!"  
  
"Eleven," said Greenleaf, coming out of the room just in time to send an arrow through and orc behind Gimli. He hastily tucked some papers into his leggings. "Let's go!"  
  
"That's what I was planning on!" the Dwarf yelled, running on. "Crazy Elf!"  
  
Finally the exit was ahead of them, daylight shining brightly through it into the dark caves. But at that moment there was a huge explosion, rocking the entire mountain down to its roots and flinging Greenleaf and Gimli to the ground. They scrambled up again as rocks fell around them. Ahead, the exit was collapsing. Great lumps of stone crashed down, and the way would be blocked in moments. Greenleaf grasped Gimli's arm and they began a mad dash to their only way of escape.  
  
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A/n: Nearly there. One more chapter, punters. And at this point I have to appreciate ClassicFM for putting on exactly the right bit of music as I typed this end bit. 'Oh Fortuna' from Carmina Burana, Carl Orff, just for the bit as they leg it out of the caves. Splendid. 


	15. From Mordor, With Love

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
You Only Live Forever  
  
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
Author's Notes: Some Batman-style aerobatics here. My fault for watching 'Batman Forever' and loving it, though the comics are so much better. And now, the end is near. Last chapter. It's been stupid but fun.  
  
Review replies: theinklesspen: (did I mention how much I like your pen name –literally 'pen' name, I suppose). Hmm, being that he's dead, I suppose that does mean his regime is over.  
  
Nemo Returning: I was attempting for the poetic. Or at least the melodramatic. I'm a godawful poet. And what makes you think Saruman will survive? Am I that predictable? You'll just have to wait and see, I suppose.

Idlewild: I was worried you weren't going to review! I had no reviews until Friday (sob). I'm happy now. I'm going to have to watch Casino Royale someday. I was a bit iffy on the Greenleaf/Sauron fight, but they had to, really. Sauron is bigger, but Legolas is faster, maybe. Meh, I try. After this? Wait and see...  
  
I actually found myself a copy of 'Colonel Sun'! Hooray! Having spent ages searching for it in the local libraries (it's a bloody hard book to find) I then found it on a second hand bookstall. Ain't that just the way. I am reading it currently, and loving it.  
  
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Chapter 15. From Mordor, With Love  
  
They sped out of the passageway at speed, emerging finally and gratefully into the open air. The light was dimming, becoming slowly obscured by the rising column of smoke and ash from the volcano. Stumbling more than a little over the rocky, uneven ground, Greenleaf and Gimli ran as fast as possible. Greenleaf was running slower than he would normally, partly to allow the Dwarf to keep up on his shorter legs, and partly due to the effects of his own exhaustion and fatigue. His injuries were beginning to tell, though he wouldn't admit it. Behind them, the huge volcano loomed still, made even more imposing by its crown of smoke. It was soon going to erupt, and the two of them had to get clear.  
  
A tremor ran through the ground, a ripple spreading from the volcano. Gimli staggered and would have fallen had Greenleaf not seized his arm and pulled him on. But even as the distance between them and the burgeoning eruption grew, they were still not far enough away. The blast would be huge; Orodruin had lain dormant for many years. More tremors shook the ground, and this time they both fell. Attempts to stand while the ground still shook gave them the appearance of slapstick clowns, though no one was around to see or laugh. Cracks opened in the ground, and they both had to hold onto each other to keep from getting trapped in them. When at last the shaking eased, Greenleaf chanced a look backwards. Heading their way from behind were mounted black figures. Nazgûl, he realised, and his stomach sank.  
  
He turned and continued running, though inwardly he was worried. There were nine Nazgûl, and only he and Gimli to fight them. Not particularly good odds to start with, but add in both their fatigues and injuries, and the fact that the Nazgûl were mounted, and things began looking significantly worse. Not to mention that there was still the problem of getting out of the range of the volcano's eruption. Squinting back through the growing smoke, Greenleaf could make out the nine Wraiths gaining on them steadily.  
  
"What is it?" Gimli asked, though it cost him breath to do so.  
  
"Nazgûl," Greenleaf replied, knowing there was no use in saying anything else.  
  
He saw the Dwarf's expression falter for an instant, and did not blame him one bit. But then Gimli's features set themselves in a determined grimace and he grasped his axe in his grimy hands.  
  
"Let 'em come," he roared, "and they shall taste my axe!"  
  
"And my knife," Greenleaf agreed, "but we must keep up the pace. We can't be close when the volcano goes!"  
  
They ran on, the Wraiths behind them getting ever closer. Tremors came more frequently, occasionally throwing one or both to the ground. Despite his professionalism, Greenleaf was beginning to despair. No matter how fast they ran, they couldn't outrun such an explosion. It would take something of a miracle to save them. But even as Greenleaf stared ahead, he saw something among the black smoke, heading their way fast but still some distance away. Realising what it was, he smiled, and his teeth shone whitely against his soot-blackened face. He slowed slightly, looking round. The Nazgûl were almost on them. Hoof beats thrummed on the ground, beating an increasingly louder tattoo as they approached. Greenleaf unsheathed his knife.  
  
He and Gimli turned as the nine black-clad Wraiths reached them. The horses slowed not one bit as they rushed forward, nostrils flaring.  
  
Greenleaf ducked to one side as the first passed him, its sword barely missing his head. He brought up his knife, slashing it along the great black horse's side and severing the leather straps holding the saddle to the creature. It reared and bolted, away from him. Greenleaf could see the Wraith trying to bring it back under control, but couldn't watch for long as two more attacked him. This time they flanked him, one on either side. Their swords swept low as they swung them down towards him. Greenleaf dropped to the ground, lying flat for an instant as the blades skimmed his back, just missing his quiver. A cold line of pain was drawn along his side, and he knew one had cut him. But he had no time to think on it.  
  
The two Wraiths had swung around and were coming back. Another was approaching from the other direction, and Greenleaf was in the middle, facing the two. They were on him in seconds, the two either side and the one directly at him. Greenleaf seized the reins of the pair –who had reached him first- and used them to flip himself up into the air. He somersaulted backwards, avoiding the Wraiths' swords. Kicking out with his feet, he knocked the two of them backwards while he landed on the other Wraith's horse, behind the rider. The Wraith screeched, trying to swing its sword round at the Elf and failing. One of the other two Nazgûl had wheeled around and was coming back. Greenleaf barely had time to see this and react. He grabbed the arm of the Wraith he sat behind, fighting it for control of the sword. As the other came up, Greenleaf forced the Wraith's arm out fast. At the speed the Wraith was going, it didn't see the sword until it was plunging through it. With a brief screech the Nazgûl tumbled from its horse and fell limply to the ground. One down, Greenleaf silently rejoiced.  
  
Gimli was having similar success. His axe had already made short work of one horse's knees, bringing the beast thrashing to the ground, its red eyes rolling. The Wraith leapt from its back as it fell, landing before the Dwarf. It hissed, raising its sword. Gimli hefted his axe as menacingly as possible. The Wraith screeched and moved forwards. Gimli dived beneath its sword swing, straightening up when he and the Wraith were close. He sent his axe up high in an arc, slicing off the Wraith's head. The black-clad body swayed and fell as Gimli jumped out of the way. The head, a crumbling helmeted mess, bounced a little way further. Gimli looked up to see two more Wraiths on horses heading his way.  
  
Greenleaf meanwhile was clinging to the robes of the Wraith before him, trying his best not to be thrown off. The huge black horse was bucking and rearing, while its rider scratched at the Elf's face. Its long sword was useless, hampered by Greenleaf's close proximity, but it couldn't reach for the dagger at its waist without releasing the horse's reins. Greenleaf's knife was in his hand. Still clutching the Wraith with one hand, he plunged the blade into the cadaverous body, feeling it slice through the remains of the flesh. He drew his knife upwards, cutting through as much as possible. There was no blood, but the high-pitched keening wail assured Greenleaf that the Nazgûl was feeling it. It struggled wildly, but he managed to throw it from the horse, leaving Greenleaf to grab at the reins himself. But even as he did so, two more Wraiths were alongside him, grasping with their spindly hands. One's sword came down, slashing through the reins Greenleaf was holding. He had no time to grab anything else as their fingers grabbed him and pulled.  
  
He fell from the horse, automatically rolling as he hit the ground and curling up as hooves crashed down around him. One caught him in the chest, throwing him back and knocking him breathless. He scrambled away as the horses came round a second time. He tried to regain his feet but fell again, a hoof cracking one of his ribs audibly. He gasped, rolling away again. He pushed up to his feet, holding his head as he waited for it to clear. Looking up, he saw that he was in the middle of a circle of the remaining Nazgûl, and Gimli was beside him. The Dwarf looked up at the Elf. They shared a brief, ironic smile before standing back, weapons raised. The Wraiths circled them menacingly.  
  
"Guess they're not the talkative type then," Greenleaf commented. He glanced a little way West and smiled.  
  
"Don't think much of their fashion sense either," Gimli grunted. "What're you so happy about?"  
  
"Wait and see," Greenleaf replied.  
  
The Wraiths suddenly closed in, their swords glinting. One just missed Greenleaf's head, narrowly trimming a few strands of hair. He parried another with his knife, hearing the clang behind him as Gimli did the same with his axe. Two blades came straight for his head from opposite directions. He stopped one with his knife, and twisted his head to avoid the other. The tip just grazed his cheek, spilling a little more blood down his face. The odds didn't seem good for them at that moment, but then it all changed.  
  
A loud whinny came from behind the Wraiths. One of them was suddenly from its horse, landing almost on top of Gimli. The Dwarf hacked its head off before it could rise. The remaining Nazgûl scattered as Shadowfax broke through their circle. The great white stallion kicked at the suddenly skittish black horses, driving them away from the Elf and the Dwarf. Greenleaf seized Gimli by the arm, dragging him towards Shadowfax. He lifted the Dwarf into the air and swung himself onto the horse's back.  
  
"Hey!" Gimli protested, but Greenleaf wasn't listening.  
  
He began to run alongside Shadowfax, heading in the direction away from Orodruin. As the horse picked up speed he leapt up, landing neatly in front of Gimli. The Dwarf gripped his waist, complaining loudly about "idiotic, stupid, show off, risk-to-life-and-limb, crazy Elves."  
  
Behind, the Wraiths were catching up, screeching loudly. They came up alongside, two on each side and one behind. Gimli looped one hand in Greenleaf's belt and sliced outwards with his axe. One Wraith fell victim to it, falling untidily to the ground in a heap. Greenleaf leant down low to the side of Shadowfax's neck, gripping his knife. Reaching out, he slashed at the nearest horse, making it shy away. The Wraith's sword was perilously close until the Elf knocked it back, following it up by cutting the Wraith open. It fell backwards, knocking the Wraith behind it from its horse. They both ended up in a heap behind, tangled together. Only two now remained, and Shadowfax was beginning to outpace them. One was larger than the others had been, and Greenleaf could see what seemed to be a crown under its hood.  
  
Urging its horse, it drew closer while the other came up no the other side. The large one grabbed Greenleaf by the throat, moving faster than he had expected or anticipated. The hand was bony and thin, but still remarkably strong. It dragged the Elf half off of Shadowfax, despite Greenleaf's hands pulling at its wrist. Gimli yanked at the Elf's belt again, stopping him from being pulled completely from the horse. He dug his short legs into Shadowfax's flanks, desperate not to fall and bring them both down. The horses raced across the plateau, the ground blurring beneath them. The flaming volcano provided a perfect backdrop to the vicious fight.  
  
Greenleaf battled for breath as the Wraith's hand tightened around his neck, squeezing cruelly. He choked, dimly aware of Gimli holding him back from being dragged off completely. The Wraith's head was very close to the Elf's as it hissed unpleasantly in long drawn-out syllables.  
  
"Elf!" it screeched, the word barely discernable.  
  
Gimli suddenly found himself with more troubles. The other remaining Wraith scraped the top of his helmet with its sword, hissing to itself as the Dwarf ducked just in time. Gimli couldn't turn to fight it off, as he was holding Greenleaf on Shadowfax's back. The Elf didn't seem to be responding, but instead hung between the two gripping him, staring blankly into the Wraith's hood. He was mesmerised by the Nazgûl, unresisting as it dragged him closer. Gimli swore and pulled back harder, almost overbalancing. The other Wraith's sword swung again from behind.  
  
"Damn it, Elf!" Gimli yelled, meeting the sword with his axe, the clang loud and resounding.  
  
Greenleaf heard the Dwarf's shout breaking through his consciousness. He fought against the Wraith's hypnotising hold, struggling against the overwhelming blackness. He dangled precariously between the two racing horses; each hoof pounding on the ground sent pain through his body. Everything that had happened to him since reaching Mordor was making itself felt vociferously. It would have been so easy to give into the Wraith's attack, but Greenleaf was, as ever, a professional. With an angry cry, he punched upwards with his fist, hitting the Wraith in the face. It hissed in retort and began to crush his windpipe, cutting off the Elf's air.  
  
Bringing up his knife fast, Greenleaf slashed at the Wraith's wrist. The sharp Elven blade made quick work of it and severed the hand from its arm. That done, Greenleaf fell, no longer held up by the Wraith. Gimli heaved back, saving the Elf from tumbling to the ground. He blocked another sword thrust from behind, returning it in kind. The Wraith's sword clattered to the ground. In a last ditch attempt, it threw itself at Gimli, fingers outstretched. An axe swing chopped it in two, sending the halves in different directions.  
  
Hanging upside-down, Greenleaf was hard put to keep his head from being kicked in my either of the horses' hooves as they galloped along. One caught him squarely on the shoulder, dislocating it with agonising pain. He cried out, practically blacking out as he did. He hung limply for a few moments, eyes closed and breathing heavy. His hair was dragging along in the dirt until he raised his head as much as possible, gritting his teeth against the pain. He looked up and met the eyes of the Wraith. Or at least, where its eyes probably were. Its great sword swung down, and Greenleaf was powerless to avoid it.  
  
Gimli, however, wasn't. Leaning back to compensate for Greenleaf's weight, he managed to extend his axe far enough to block the sword, making it miss the Elf. Greenleaf seized the opportunity, throwing his good arm up over Shadowfax's neck and pulling himself upright. Together, he and Gimli attacked the last Wraith with knife and axe. Greenleaf's knife decapitated it while Gimli's axe halved it at the waist. The black horse, confused and freed by the death of its rider, turned and fled. Shadowfax continued to race for the Mountains of Shadow that ranged before them, tall and dark with white caps.  
  
"That last one was a nasty creature and no mistake," Gimli commented, rehanging his axe in its loop on his belt. He was panting heavily with exertion.  
  
Greenleaf was using his useable hand to unclasp the rigid fingers of the Wraith's hand from around his neck. "Oh, I don't know," he croaked, "he was so eager to lend a hand." He dropped it as they hurried on.  
  
Behind them, the volcano was erupting. The roar reached their ears and great tremors shook the ground, but Shadowfax stayed nimble on his feet, keeping on his route. Greenleaf looked back over his shoulder, seeing the flames shooting from the top of Orodruin. The initial boom of the explosion had passed over them, and now ash and cinders were raining down. He bent down over Shadowfax's neck, urging the horse on until they reached the foot of the Ephel Dúath.  
  
"We need to get through Minas Morgul," Greenleaf yelled, guiding the horse up, "else we'll get suffocated with all this dust!" They galloped on.  
  
"Blasted horse," Gimli muttered as he was shaken up and down. He didn't really mean it, but had to keep up appearances.  
  
They raced on up the slope of the mountain, Shadowfax not slowing despite the double weight on his back. The air grew clearer as they got higher and after they had passed through the dead city of Minas Morgul they came out into pale sunshine. It seemed strange after the darkness in Mordor. Greenleaf slowed Shadowfax, easing the pace once they were out of danger. They turned, stopping to see the destruction behind them wrought by the erupting volcano. They watched as the black smoke covered the area in mist and shadow.  
  
"Well, that's the end of Sauron then," said Greenleaf, "and his whole operation. Thank the Valar." He looked at Gimli behind him.  
  
The Dwarf started laughing. "You should see what you look like," he chuckled, "far from your usual prim and prissy self. You're absolutely filthy!"  
  
"And you're not?" Greenleaf grinned wickedly. "I suppose that being a Dwarf you don't notice it. You're too used to grubbing around in the dirt!"  
  
"I think you'll find that you're worse," Gimli sniffed, though his eyes twinkled.  
  
"I doubt it," Greenleaf replied, fighting the urge to laugh at the idea.  
  
In truth they were both equally mucky. General battle dirt combined with dust and smuts, and congealed in places with drying blood on their skin. Greenleaf's hair was nearly black with filth, his braids mostly undone and flicking in his face. Any observer would be forgiven for assuming them to be Wildmen.  
  
"It looks like we need a bath," Greenleaf said eventually.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
There was a worried looking group gathered round one of the MIRRORs in U's rooms. Aragorn –still well-bandaged- and Arwen stood together, the lady using the excuse of supporting the recovering man to hold his arm. G, resplendent as usual in white, watched as U fiddled with the MIRROR, trying to tune it in.  
  
"What exactly are you trying to do?" Arwen asked. "You weren't very specific earlier."  
  
"Trying to get hold of 0011 or Gimli," U replied, "that dratted Elf won't think of or bother calling us. And since reports say that Orodruin has exploded, I get the feeling that they're behind it." He frowned, but despite the gruff tone he was concerned. It was possible that both were dead. "Ah, here we are." An image floated on the surface of the water. It was completely black. "Drat," the wizard said, "their palantír must still be in the bag."  
  
"Can you call them?" G asked, but even as she did voices were heard from the MIRROR.  
  
"Ah, Gimli! Gimli!"  
  
"Easy, Legolas! You'll have to try and hold still."  
  
"They're obviously getting on better," Aragorn commented, "I never heard Gimli call Legolas by name before, or vice versa."  
  
"Harder, Gimli! I can't (gasp) hold on (gasp) that long! Harder!"  
  
"I'm trying, you finicky Elf! This isn't easy, you know!"  
  
"Just ... harder! Please!"  
  
G's face was completely impassive, while Arwen's seemed rather confused. "What do you suppose they're..." she began, but G cut her off.  
  
"Don't spend too long thinking about it, dear," she said. She turned to U. "I suppose it would be foolish to suggest attracting their attention now?"  
  
U smiled, stroking his beard, and was about to reply when he was interrupted by a scream from the MIRROR. A long, loud scream.  
  
"Ai! Valar! Gimli! Oh!"  
  
"Are you all right, Legolas? Legolas!"  
  
"...fine. Orc's-breath, that's better! Ah..." There was the loud sound of heavy breathing.  
  
U picked up a black cloth from the table behind him and laid it over the MIRROR.  
  
"I think we can safely leave them to it," he said calmly.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Greenleaf sat with his back against a rock, still shaking. Gimli stood beside him, bandaging the shoulder that he had just –with great difficulty- put back in its socket. Shutting his eyes and leaning his head back, Greenleaf tried to will away the throbbing in his arm. He wasn't doing very well. The adrenaline that had carried him so far had given out, dropping him in a heap. All the pain that he had so far suppressed was hitting him now with a vengeance.  
  
He moaned quietly, secretly relieved that the mission was finally over. He would wish otherwise later, of course, but now he was just glad for the chance to rest. Some of the most satisfying times he had ever spent had been ones like this, immediately after some of the worst and before the boredom set in. He knew that he would never be satisfied being like this for long, and to live like this forever would bore him to tears, but just for now it was good. He was a warrior, a fighter; he preferred action. Satisfaction be damned, there was nothing like pulling off some crazy stunt that had almost got him killed. It was what he did best.  
  
Having finished the bandage, Gimli dropped to sit beside the Elf. He was in better shape, but was still exhausted. He picked at some drying orc-blood that was on his sleeve. Neither of them spoke for a while, content to sit. The sun worked its way higher in the sky, occasionally obscured by a passing cloud. They had built a small fire, as the day was not overly warm, and it crackled quietly.  
  
"So," Gimli said eventually, "a bath."  
  
"Hmm," replied Greenleaf, after a bit, not moving. There was a further silence.  
  
"We really ought to," Gimli said, though he wasn't inclined to move either, "rather than sit here in all this filth."  
  
"And we ought to get in touch with G," Greenleaf said, "but I can't actually be bothered. Let them stew for a bit. I don't care."  
  
Gimli laughed. "I had the impression that you were rather duty-bound, Legolas. Haven't you got work to do?"  
  
Greenleaf shrugged, and winced as he did. "I think we've earned a holiday. After all, it could take us a while to get back." He grinned. "Is there anywhere you want to visit on the way?"  
  
"Seriously?" Gimli asked, rather surprised. At Greenleaf's nod he continued. "I've heard that the Glittering Caves beneath Helm's Deep are worth a visit."  
  
Greenleaf rolled his eyes. "Caves," he said with a chuckle, "I should have known. But that should be easy enough; I'm on rather good terms with the King of the Mark."  
  
Gimli grinned, and then frowned. "But you're injured!"  
  
"Nothing that won't heal," Greenleaf said, waving it off.  
  
"I suppose we won't be able to travel fast with you hurt," Gimli said slowly. They looked at each other, and then burst into laughter. It took some time for them to stop.  
  
"So then," Gimli said again, after their laughter had died down, "this bath we both need."  
  
"In a minute," Greenleaf told him, "I have something to do." He reached into the back of his leggings and pulled out some folded pieces of paper. As the Elf unfolded them, Gimli realised what they were.  
  
"The plans for Sauron's war machines!" he exclaimed. "But what are you going to do with them?"  
  
"Send them onto G," Greenleaf explained, "they'll be safest in Lórien." He whistled. A hobby –a small type of hawk- swooped down to land on his knee. The bird regarded the Elf quizzically for a moment, and then began to preen its feathers. Greenleaf was just about to tie the papers to its leg with threads when he paused and smiled. Reaching across carefully, he pulled a charred stick from the fire and blew on it to cool it. Then, using the blackened end, he wrote a short message at the bottom of one sheet. It was only four words.  
  
"From Mordor, with love."  
  
He tied the papers to the bird's leg and whispered to it for a moment in Elvish. It took to the skies with a flurry of wings, flying fast enough to be only a small dot in a few minutes.  
  
"Come on," Greenleaf said, standing and offering his hand to Gimli, "let's take that bath." He pulled Gimli up and the two, now friends, walked slowly down towards the stream. All that was left to be heard was the clear Elvish voice raised in song.  
  
"From Mordor, with love, I fly to you,  
  
"With information to supply to you.  
  
"I'll travel so far to get all this to you,  
  
"From Mordor, with love."  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
The End.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
A/n: phew, that's over. Quite a cheesy ending really. And yes, that bit with the MIRROR, that was unforgivable. I'm sorry. What I had in my head was the stereotypical Bond ending of Bond and his woman getting it on while M and Q try to get in contact. The idea of sending it up was just too much fun to ignore.  
  
Anyway, now for the trailer for the sequel!  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Coming soon, to a website near you...  
  
THE SPAN OF SOLACE  
  
A THRILLER of not-so-epic proportions!  
  
The latest ADVENTURE of Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS!  
  
In the beautiful surroundings of Rivendell, there lurks a KILLER!  
  
A tale in six chapters, involving EXCITEMENT, AMUSEMENT and DANGER!  
  
:::::  
  
What was the worst they'd do, anyway? Fire him? They wouldn't dare.  
  
:::::  
  
"He likes them," said Aragorn, looking away, "but he wouldn't go to bed with one."  
  
:::::  
  
Greenleaf momentarily stopped breathing as it suddenly moved across his stomach.  
  
:::::  
  
He placed the Queen of Spades on the table, face down. It seemed a little impolite, but he was sure she wouldn't mind.  
  
:::::  
  
"Are you all right?" Elrond repeated his question. "Legolas, someone just tried to kill you. Aren't you at least a bit disturbed?"  
  
:::::::::  
  
Be careful of THE SPAN OF SOLACE  
  
Weak nerves will be shredded by it.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
(The author accepts no responsibility for any nerves shredded. There's a warning. Read it and don't come crying to me if you don't like it. Coming soon.)


End file.
